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“ Frichtful was the spectacle as he turned to look back for his 
c>mi)aiuon.’‘ 28. 



THK 


EMIGRANT’S MOTHER: 

% true Df t|£ last Jiftg gearSj 

FOR THE OLD AND THE YOUNG- 


“The good old paths are good enough for me; 

The fathers walked to heaven in them, and we. 
By following meekly where they trod, may reach 
The home they found.” 


WITH A PREFATORY AUTHENTICATION, ‘ 
BY RUFUS BABCOCK, D.D. 





NEW YORK: 

SHELDON & COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 

498 & 500 BROADWAY. 


18 7 1 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year istoo by 
SHELDON, BLAKEMAN & CO. 

In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States 
for the Southern District of New York. 


Gin 

Mrs. Hennen Jennings 
April 26 , 1033 










TO 


REY. BARNAS SEARS, D.D., 

FBESIDENT OF BBOWN UNIVERSITY, PROVIDENCE, RHODE ISLAND, 

ANI 

REV. JESSE HARTWELL, D.D., 

PRESIDENT OF MOUNT LEBANON UNIVERSITY, LOUISIANA, 

ITHO, REARED AMID THE HILLS, IN THE VICINITY OF THE SCENE OF TUI 
LABORS OP THE PASTOR OF BROOKDALE, AND INTIMATELY AO- 
qUAINTED WITH SEVERAL OF THE CHARACTERS AND INCIDENTS 
HERB CHRONICLED ; LONG DEVOTED TO THE EDUCATION OF 
THE YOUNG; AND NOW NOBLY FILLING SPHERES OF 
IMPORTANT USEFULNESS, IN TRAINING THE RISING 
MINISTRY, IN WIDELY SUNDEItED PORTIONS OF 
OUR BELOVED COUNTRY, THIS LITTLE VOL- 
UME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, INDI- 
CATING AS IT DOES THE MIGHTY INFLU- 
ENCE OF MOTHERS IN TUB GREAT 
WORK TO WHICH THEIR LIVES 
ARE SO WORTHILY 
CONSECRATED. 


** Penates ! I will not quit, 

To mingle with the cfowd, your calm abodes, 
Where by the evening hearth Contentmeit sits 
And hears the cricket chirp ; where Love delights 
To dwell, and on your altars lays his torch. 

That burns with no extinguishable flame. 

4: 4: '4: * 4: 4« 4: 

“ Household deities 1 
Then only shall be Happiness on earth. 

When man shall feel your sacred power, and If ve 
Tour tranquil joys.” 

Southey’s Hymn to the PEXAim 


PREFATORY AUTHENTICATION. 


EVERAL years since, a considerable poiiion 
of the sheets comprising the following 
story were shown to me : but circum- 
stances needless to be explained, then pre- 
vented its completion. My recollections of 
it were awakened afresh quite recently, while pe- 
rusing extensive manuscripts of a somewhat kin- 
dred character — developing the mighty influence of 
a mind of difierent order, trained, like the heroine 
of this tale, in New England principles and habits, 
and bearing them thence to the far West, to be the 
seminal elements of far wider diflfusion, and in a 
more genial soil, for the cultivation of what is in- 
dispensable to our country’s welfare and hcnor 
This coincidence prompted in me the desire that 
this true story should be given to the public, and 
the author was now enabled to complete it. 


VI PREFATORY AUTHENTICATION. 


But his earnest wish — for reasons important to 
himself — was to send forth this historiette anony- 
mously : and as fictions, aid tales assuming only tO 
be “founded on fact,” with a large measure of 
imaginative embellishment, so much abound, it has 
been thought requisite for some responsible name to 
give assurance to the truthfulness of what is here 
written. I have been appealed to for this service, 
as one who — as well as the distinguished individ- 
uals to whom the little volume is inscribed — has 
the requisite knowledge, from the close proximity 
of my birth-place to the opening scenes here de- 
picted, and from having visited more than once, 
in my wanderings, the western home also of the 
Emigrant’s Mother — just to prefix, as I now do most 
willingly and conscientiously, my assurance of the 
entire truthfulness of the following statements. Only 
a change in a few of the names of persons and 
places has been made to secure the incognito. The 
slight appearance of romance, if such there be, in 
the story, has not been sought for or contrived, but 
was only the conjunction, under God’s favoring 


PREFATORY AUTHENTICATION, rii 


providence, of events adapted to awaken gratitude 
and call forth praise to the all-wise Disposer. 

A word more in reference to the title of this 
story. The word “ Emigrant” now, almost exclu- 
sively, is applied to designate one who has come 
from another country. Not such was its principal 
use forty years since. Then, when a larger number 
and a more valuable quality of the influx into our 
western States were accustomed to come from New 
England and New York, rather than from Europe, 
this was the common term applied to them, and 
this use of it is here preserved. As to the impor- 
tance to our beloved country of the large infusion 
of the industry, economy, and enterprise of those 
reared in hardship and privation on the compara- 
tively sterile hills of the eastern States, brought 
wdrly into the vast and fertile plains of the West, 
carrying with them intelligence, and in many in- 
stances the love of order, morals, religion and social 
progress, with its needful safeguards, there can be, 
I presume, no question among those who have care- 
fully and without prejudice studied the mighty 


problem now so rapidly, and, on the whole, so 
auspiciously de7eloping in our national progress. 

In this aspect the following story, besides the 
beautiful simplicity of early manners among the 
humbler classes which it pictures to the life, as they 
were known to exist half a century ago, has also 
a lesson of instruction of a higher kind, for the 
reflective reader who loves to gather up the teach- 
ings of God’s good providence in the affairs of fam- 
ilies and communities, which in the aggregate swell 
into the magnitude of nations, and command the 
attentive interest and profound study of the philo- 
BOphical historian. 

R. B. 


PxTEESON, N. J., December 1st, 1868. 







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THE FAMILY GROUP. 

Page 3. 


« 








THE EMIGRANT’S MOTHER 


PART I. 

“Tho brief and simple annals of the poor.” 

f N the closing years of the last cen- 
tury, Diantha Jones, the principal 
^ subject of this narrative, was found 
^ in the ambiguous station of a ser- 
^ vant and a companion in the family 
of an humble Christian pastor. His resi- 
dence was in one of the newly settled 
townships of New England. The mem- 
bers of his flock were few, scattered and 
poor ; quite unable to afford him an ade- 
quate support. But his was no merce- 
nary regard ; he felt rather, toward all 
the members of that little community, 


10 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

the affection of a father. That small 
church had been gathered by his evan- 
gelical labors ; and though other and 
more inviting fields often tempted him 
to leave, yet he steadfastly resisted the 
allurement, and seemed resolved — as they 
had been his first charge — so would he 
abide with and serve them, till death 
should release him, or age and infirm- 
ities disqualify him for his official duties. 

The family of the pastor consisted of 
a wife in very poor health, and three 
sons. The eldest of these was a vigor- 
ous young man nearly seventeen years 
old, whose daily toil assisted largely in 
their support. The second, seven years 
younger, was beginning to render some 
assistance, and the youngest, little Reu- 
ben, was still a nursling of less than 
twelve months. Under such circum- 
stances it may be easily understood how 
important an event in their domestic his- 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 11 


tory was the arrival of Mrs. Diantha 
Jones; or, as the children, by a large 
contraction, soon accustomed themselves 
to call her, Miss Ana.” This name 
gradually almost supplanted the other, 
and became the familiar and not disre- 
spectful appellation by which she was 
known in the family and throughout the 
immediate neighborhood. 

She was now a widow, about thirty 
years of age, of middle size and quiet 
demeanor. She had known more of 
hardship and sorrow from her earliest 
years, than of the enjoyments of this 
life. An orphan child, she had been 
committed to those whose tender mercies 
were cruel, and was at length snatched 
from the experience of severities which 
must ere long have proved fatal to her, 
by the interposition of some of her rel- 
atives. She had not been fortunate in 
her marriage ; but after a few years her 


12 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

husband left her and went to sea, and 
she never heard from or saw him after- 
ward. Thus left, with an infant son en- 
tirely destitute, she was enabled to put 
her trust in the Lord, whose gracious 
promise to the widow and the fatherless, 
she failed not to experience. After hav- 
ing struggled on for some years, thus 
lonely and dependent, till she had reared 
up her little boy to an age when it was 
practicable to engage him for the remain- 
der of his minority to a respectable farm- 
er in a neighboring township, she found 
a place for herself, as above related, in 
the family of the worthy pastor at 
Brookdale. 

It may be readily understood, how- 
ever, that the situation of Mrs. Jones 
was not enviable. The inadequate in- 
come of the family with which she’ re- 
sided, and the ill health of the mistress 
of it, threw no small burdens upon her. 


THE emigrant's MOTHER. 13 

In the early period, when our narrative 
commences, most of the families of mod- 
erate circumstances, in that vicinity, were 
accustomed to prepare almost their entire 
clothing by a species of industry which 
was indeed domestic manufacture. The 
wool and the flax from which their cloth 
was made, had to he carded, and spun 
and woven by hand, and to her the fam- 
ily soon came to look for the performance 
of nearly all the processes of this entire 
service, in addition to the usual toils of 
the kitchen and the dairy. From the 
early dawn of day, to the close of the 
evening, she was engaged in almost un- 
remitted but varying service. This was 
rendered more tolerable because she had 
long been accustomed to it. She was 
also conscious of being useful, and that 
the value of her services were gratefully 
appreciated. .More than all, she was 
treated with uniform kindness and re- 


14 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

spect. Here too she regularly enjoyed 
religious privileges to which before she 
had been a stranger. With the close of 
Saturday evening her toils ended; and 
the Sabbath’s holy rest enabled her al- 
ways to visit the house of God, and ex- 
perience the refreshing influence of the 
worship and the pious instruction there 
enjoyed. She always shared also the de- 
lights of social religious exercises ; send- 
ing up from the domestic altar the morn- 
ing and the evening sacrifice, accompanied 
with the devout reading of a portion of 
the sacred Scriptures. For such privileges 
she had often sighed ; and now that Prov- 
idence had in these respects favored her, 
she wisely regarded her daily labors, 
heavy and constant as they certainly 
were, to he no more than she should ex- 
pect in the otherwise favored position 
which she occupied. 

To follow through a single day’s rou* 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 15 


tine of her service at all work,” may 
furnish a better idea of the nature and 
amount of this toil, than could otherwise 
be gained. 

Rising with the lark, she assisted the 
boys in milking the cows, then arranged 
the milk either for butter or for cheese- 
making ere she prepared breakfast for 
the family. After this repast, and the 
invariable season of family worship, there 
followed the regular work of the season, 
carding and spinning, or weaving, which 
was of course subject to such interrup- 
tions as the preparation of dinner brought 
along with it. When this principal meal 
had been dispatched, and the incidental 
clearing away had been attended to, she 
would return for a few hours to the reg- 
ular work, before it was time to get sup- 
per. After this frugal meal, and the 
evening chores^ had been attended to, 

* A significant New England word, embracing a variety 


16 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

there remained some little interval, vary* 
ing with the seasons of the year in its 
length, before the hour of evening prayer 
and repose : this was busily occupied 
with the needle, either in making or 
mending the clothes of the family. It 
is true the pastor’s wife rendered such 
aid in some of these services as her 
infirm health allowed. But enough re- 
mained each day to fill up all the mo- 
ments, and tax to the fullest power of 
effort and endurance the faithful Miss 
Ana. True, her severe toils were the 
more tolerable to her, because she was 
surrounded and associated with those 
who were necessarily alike industrious ; 
and we all bear our own hard service 
more easily, when those around us cheer- 
fully submit to the same. 

A small farm, of rugged, repulsive as- 


of small work and cai*es, lield subordinate to the princifa) 
labor. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 17 


pect, but not unproductive, was occupied 
by the pastor. So much of his labor as 
could be spared from his professional du- 
ties, with that of his sons, and a little 
occasional assistance from some of his 
considerate and kind-hearted parishion- 
ers, enabled him to clear and till these 
acres, which in turn yielded their various 
products. These assisted him to live on, 
from year to year, exercising a frugal, 
but generous hospitality, and providing 
for the necessary wants of his family. 
The sons were accustomed to labor on 
the farm as soon as their age enabled 
them to be useful, during the summer 
season, and in the winter they enjoyed 
the benefit of that glory of New England, 
even in its earliest days. The Common 
School. 

When they were toiling over their 
evening lessons, interrupted as they 
often would be by the intrusion of com 
2 * 


18 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

pany into the common sitting-room of 
the family, where, for economy’s sake, 
but one fire was kept up, or when some 
duty or errand for the family sent them 
away for an hour, and they had to make 
up the task by fagging later than usual, 
the good widow Jones would cheer them 
by a kind word or a considerate sugges- 
tion of their superior youthful advantages 
to those which fell to her lot. She was 
sure she would willingly deprive her- 
self of accustomed sleep, could she there- 
by secure such schooling and such good 
learning as they were now attaining.” 
Very well, too, did she know how to 
mingle a little commendation with her 
counsel. If a neighbor had spoken well 
of the pastor’s sons, at just the right time 
and place where this stimulus and com- 
fort was most necessay, she could hint it 
to them in a sort of enigmatical inuendo 
which enhanced its interest and value. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 19 


Did the teacher, who, in those days of 
primitive simplicity, boarded around ^^ith 
the parents of the scholars, drop a word 
of praise in regard to the fidelity,, ithe 
studiousness, the success of these boj^sdjd 
their studies, this, too, was laid<up ^th 
provident carefulness by MissiiA^iiaryUhitt 
she might repeat it to themf^^ustsvthfin 
they were beginning to get difeicotiraged 
with some very difficult tp^obfem,? or tc 
grow drowsy from long/a-nd late'od^tention 
at their studies. Ho^eajsnestiy, too, slje 
seemed to help themvailiii^fibeb^power by 
relieving them of sndi hearvices as she 
could somehow”ofindI)ti)meoto perform, 
though out of hbrjdsualfjMiie. Was an 
unusual amounJblof be brought in 
before a storm,) ebfepiit on her red hood 
and mittens ando aidddiifehem sooner to 
accomplish it.boiWalsIiaoTteak and dying 
lamb to beiitursadpjohd Ted, and warmed 
^s^Yr iajfiicoid 


20 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

for the night by the kitchen fireside, she 
would take the care off their hands. 

Nor were other and less direct aids 
w^anting on her part to assure them of 
her lively interest in their respectability 
and progress. No matter at what cost 
of toil and pains on her part, their 
clothes were always clean and ready for 
use at the required season, and if in 
their straitened circumstances they could 
not put on a new suit to attend school, 
as often as some of the wealthier neigh- 
bors’ children, how sedulous were her 
endeavors, and how full of nice plans 
and schemes did she appear, in order 
that the old suits should look almost as 
well. Other boys would sometimes be 
late at school, in the short dark mornings 
of winter. But her care would never 
allow hers to be detained. They were 
called in time, if otherwise they did not 
wake ; and the breakfast was ready for 


THE emigrant's MOTHER. 21 


them in due season. To these little 
helps, she was wont to say, our hoys 
did not know how much they owed,” in 
getting on so well that both the older ones 
taught school themselves, with credit 
and success, too, before they were out 
of their teens.” As she saw them rising 
in the world, after they left their father’s 
house, her kindly eye and loving heart 
followed them, and often she seemed to 
he thinking with gratitude, that she, in 
her humble way, had contributed to their 
advancement. 

Look in upon that family group, on 
one of the long autumnal evenings, when 
all are gathered around the cheerful 
hearth. On each side of the candle- 
stand sit the father and the mother of 
the family in patriarchal precedenc e. He 
is reading aloud one of the earliest num- 
bers of a religious magazine, recently 
received, full of interesting accounts of 


22 THE emigrant's mother. 


missionary labors, sufferings, and discoT- 
eries in India and South Africa; together 
with some journals of pioneer evangelical 
labors in our frontier wilderness settle- 
ments. Some of these ^Hraveling preach- 
ers” are his personal friends — his much- 
loved ministerial brethren ; and as they 
recount hardships, toils, successes in 
their Master’s cause, the unbidden tear 
often gathers in his upturned eye. He 
pauses to add some word of personal ex- 
planation, and with his companion and 
faithful Mrs. Jones he exchanges a few 
words ; or, if the boys” seek for any ad- 
ditional information on the topics thus 
introduced, he delights to minister to 
the solution of their queries, or wisely 
guides their thoughts into some profita- 
ble and interesting channel. Their hands, 
meanwhile, are perhaps busied with some 
humble, but useful service. The ripe 
apples or golden pumpkins are freed 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER 23 


from skin and cores, and nicely sliced 
for drying ; or the earliest ripened ears 
of corn, as yet scarcely dry enough for 
threshing, are skillfully shelled, that th 
new kernels may be coarsely ground into 
the grateful hominy ; or the tanned skins 
of the wild animals they have trapped, 
are cut and braided into whips, or sewed 
into mittens, both for their own use and 
to be exchanged at the country store for 
such little articles as they may desire. 
Their mother meanwhile busily plies her 
knitting needles, for the production of 
mittens or stockings of another material, 
and little Reuben seated in the corner, 
by a large pile of faggots, consisting of 
the knots or roots of the turpentine-tree, 
throws them at regular intervals upon 
the fire, to give bright light for his own 
kind nurse, Mits Ana,” as he lispingly 
calls her, while she cards the wool for 
the next day’s spinning. Great is his 


24 THE emigrant’s mother. 

joy, that making himself useful in this 
way, and keeping very quiet, he is al- 
lowed to sit up an hour later than usual, 
and that ever and anon he gets an ap- 
proving smile both from nurse and moth 
er, as his faggot-light sheds around the 
large kitchen unusual brilliancy. But 
his eyes begin to grow heavy, and his 
pile of light^wood is nearly exhausted; 
the clock that ticks against the wall,” 
tells the hour of retiring ; the good father 
for the last half hour has laid aside his 
book, and vigorously assists his boys to 
earlier complete their tasks. So that all 
is now “put up.” Together they bow 
down for the evening prayer, and each 
with cheerful, contented heart, seeks the 
quiet pillow. 

Winter, with its snow-drifts and sleigh- 
rides, its careering storms without, and 
it nuts, and apples, and other comforts 
within, has passed away. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 25 


Smiling spring is changing into sum- 
mer. Near half a score of years have 
passed away since the opening scenes of 
our little story. The pastor’s eldest son 
is married and settled on a farm of his 
own. The remainder of the inmates hold 
their former places, though the younger 
ones have grown apace. 

Mrs. Jones is evidently expecting some 
event of unusual interest. Her little cap 
and apron are not only of faultless clean- 
liness, as usual, hut they now seem ad- 
justed with more than ordinary care. 
For whom is she now “looking out?” 
The suspense is soon relieved. There 
rides up to the door and dismounts, a 
fine, tall youth — half way between a boy 
and a man. It is her own, her only son, 
Ammon, who by consent of the worthy 
farmer to whom he had been apprenticed, 
comes regularly at this season of the 
year, after the toil of planting has been 
3 


26 THE emigrant’s mother. 

completed, to spend some days with this 
loving but rarely seen mother. If he 
were very sick at any time, she knows 
that word of it” would soon be brought 
to her, when in a few hours she could 
hasten to his side. But otherwise — so 
important does she regard it not to leave 
those who so much need her daily help — 
that she satisfies herself with this annual 
visit. Just in proportion as it was waited 
for long, there was concentrated on it an 
intensity of interest not easily conceived 
by those whose domestic enjoyment is 
more widely and uniformly diffused. Be- 
loved as she was by all the family, and 
specially the younger portion of it, they 
could readily enter into and sympathize 
with her joy on these occasions. Nor 
was the affection altogether disinterested. 
Young Ammon was of a noble, generous 
nature, and if his education had been less 
thorough and extensive than that of tho 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER 27 


pastor’s sons, his disposition was so amia* 
ble, his whole bearing so conciliatory, in- 
trepid, and yet so discreet — his power 
in athletic exercises and his skill in the 
sports and pastimes befitting his years, 
were all adapted to make him the de- 
cided favorite, and to fix on him a large 
share of the universal regard whenever 
he appeared at Brookdale. 

In age he was midway between the 
pastor’s younger sons, and for reasons 
readily understood he was most associated 
with Reuben. To the latter this annual 
coming of Miss Ana’s son was an occa- 
sion, which, in the monotony of his quiet 
life and few associates, was most welcome. 
They could ride and walk, could labor 
and play, could talk and sleep together. 
Ammon’s vigorous arm would soon help 
Reuben to accomphsh liis task — and then 
to the mountain or to the forest ; or, with 
rude but effective fishing-rods, they would 


28 THE emigrant’s mother. 

betake themselves to angling in the adja- 
cent river. Once, when a powerful rain 
had suddenly swollen this stream to tur- 
bid violence, sweeping before it every 
obstruction, and in its rapid rush unset- 
ting the pathway of their course, they 
attempted to cross the fiercely-rolling bil- 
lows on a bare and trembling tree^-trunk 
which stretched from shore to shore. 

Ammon led the way, and scarcely 
reached the opposite bank, whm fright- 
ful was the spectacle which presented 
itself as he turned to look back for his 
companion. His less steady nerves had 
failed him at the trial, and midway over 
what threatened to become his watery 
grave, his progress had been arrested — 
the dizzy swimming brain had fairly inca- 
pacitated him to take a single step either 
backward or forward, and each moment 
the slippery trembling log threatened to 
fail his foot-hold and precipitate him amid 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 29 


rocks and yeasty foaming waters beneath. 
The cries of Reuben were imploring; and 
in defiance of all peril to himself, Ammon 
hastened back, and seizing his trembling 
comrade, bore him with incredible diffi- 
culty across the dangerous pass. Fears 
of the parental chiding for such desperate 
risk incurred, sealed their lips from all 
disclosure of this adventure. But it did 
not prevent their joining with unwonted 
fervency in the good pastor’s prayer that 
night, when he thanked our heavenly 
Father for his kind, preserving care, 
guarding each one of them from all perils 
and dangers through the da y. As they 
retired to their chamber both almost 
sobbed out the overflowing of their grati- 
tude, and both, with a tenderness and 
considerateness unusual for their years, 
spoke of the painfully different scene 
which that night would have been wit- 
nessed in that dwelling, had but another 
3 * 


so THE EMIGRAx^t’s MOTHER. 


hair’s breadth of increased difficulty pre- 
vented the final rescue. Did the younger 
carry forward his thought, and, in anti- 
cipation of what had been so nearly fatal 
to him, did he ask, 

“ Where, where would theu my spirit be ? 

How should I spend Eternity ?” 


When God, by what we call accident, 
brings death so near to us, how stupid it 
is, not to take a thought of what must 
follow death ! 

Suggestions of this timely character 
were often addressed by Mrs. Jones to 
both of these youth. Indeed, since re- 
ligion with her was the principal thing, 
there were never wanting fit occasions 
for her to utter its momentous lessons. 
Her Bible was her daily counselor, her 
choicest friend. If you had looked in 
upon her, as she sat at her loom, you 
would have seen the book of her choice 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 31 


opened before her, and many of its gold- 
en truths did she thus treasure up in her 
memory. If the little folks called in to 
see her on their way to school, to ask for 
a drink of water, or hear her tell them a 
pretty story, she would reward them with 
the privilege of reading to her a Psalm 
or a chapter out of her own Bible. 

But especially were her prayerful so- 
licitudes drawn forth for this son of her 
love, and for young Reuben, to whom, 
as a kind of foster-mother, she felt the 
sincerest affection. Many were the tears 
and prayers which she and the good pas- 
tor s wife mingled together for the salva- 
tion of their children. But their good 
sense induced them rather to give the 
cheerful aspect of this matter to those 
who were awakening in their bosoms so 
tender and deep a solicitude. As it was 
not religion, but the want of it in these 
children, that made their parents sad, so 


32 THE emigrant’s mother. 

it would have been the greatest perver- 
sion to have carried the impression to 
their young minds, that religion only or 
chiefly brought tears to their parents 
eyes, or sadness to their hearts. 

Nor did God leave this family unplied 
with other ministries, adapted to convince 
them of His parental corrections. Once 
and again severe illness visited both the 
sons that remained at home. The elder 
of them soon recovered, but Heuben was 
long confined to his sick-bed. His mo- 
ther’s strength soon failed her, in the at- 
tempt to nurse this youngest son, and 
thus was a double load thrown upon the 
patient and ever faithful Mrs. Jones. By 
night and by day, all labors and cares 
requisite for his comfort she cheerfully 
expended. 

Alas ! how few but by experience 
know the amount of such requisitions, 
and when they have passed by, how 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 33 


few adequately appreciate the obliga- 
tion which they have conferred. 

In this instance, perhaps there was not 
absolute ingratitude for such persever- 
ing and long-continued favors. Mrs. Jones 
was regularly paid her small stipend, and 
she was treated by aU the family with a 
kindness and respect which seemed to 
evince the depth and sincerity of their 
acknowledgment for her humble but im- 
portant services. But boys are apt to 
be thoughtless, and they soon forget the 
cares and toils expended on them, either 
in their health or sickness. 

Folly is bound up in the heart of a 
child,” and how much, alas ! of long- 
continued discipline is required for its 
expulsion. Nor is it less obviously true 
that childhood and youth are vanity.” 
The heart, estranged from God, will early 
prompt the feet to turn aside from the 
ways of wisdom; and when gratitude to 


34 THE emigrant’s mother. 

the great Giver of all good is habitually 
repressed, what marvel if it be withheld 
from the instruments of His beneficence 
with whom we are daily connected ? 


PART II. 


“ How unsearchable are God’s judgments, and fiis wayf 
past finding out.” 

^WELVE years had passed away 
since the beginning of our little 
history. The pastor s second son 
had just become of age, and, as 
an adventurer, had left the family 
circle. Reuben, now a dozen years old, 
though not a healthy, was an almost 
overgrown boy, from frequent and se- 
vere illness rather over-indulged, and not 
as yet able to do much in repaying the 
labors, cares and anxieties which he had 
occasioned. Like many an invalid child 
becoming more dear to parents and at- 
tendants by the extra watchfulness and 
toils which he had occasioned, he was 


36 THE emigrant’s mother. 

scarcely less endeared to his unwearied 
attendant and nurse, Mrs. Jones. When 
she had once and again seen him raised up 
from the borders of the grave in answer 
to her fervent prayers, and had felt that 
her toils and vigils in his behalf had thus 
been amply recompensed, it only awak- 
ened in her heart a more intense desire 
that his young heart might yield to the 
demands of Heaven, and he no longer 
remain without a good hope through 
grace. Gently, yet earnestly and fre- 
quently, she endeavored to impress on 
his susceptible mind, the truths and ob- 
ligations of religion. Sometimes he ap- 
peared to feel and heed her entreaties. 
Especially now that an unwonted atfec- 
tionateness was manifested by her, in 
part occasioned by her son ’s just now 
coming of age, and setting forth almost 
immediately for a tour, and a season’s 
labor in what was then deemed the far 


THE EMIGKANt’s MOTHER. 37 

Wedy it would be almost brutish in- 
the boy to disregard the nearly mater- 
nal yearnings of her pious desire for his 
salvation. Still the waywardness of his 
youthful nature was becoming more and 
more manifest. He would sometimes 
seem to trifle with her most earnest re- 
monstrances, and with teasing superscil- 
iousness, rather than malicious ungodli- 
ness, he would not only ward off her 
religious appeals, but appear to turn 
them into ridicule. 

The God against whose mercies he 
was thus hardening himself, now plied 
him with other influences. Partly for 
the improvement of his wife’s health, the 
pastor was accustomed occasionally to 
take her with him in some of those offi- 
cial journeyings which led him for days 
away from his home. An excursion of 
this kind had just been planned, which 
both of them seemed to anticipate with 


38 THE emigrant’s mother. 

unusual pleasure. An ordination, at 
which he was to officiate, some thirty 
miles from his home, was to he followed 
the succeeding day by another ecclesi 
astical convocation in a neighboring town, 
and they contrived for a whole week, a 
succession of delightful services, inter- 
spersed with gentle rides day after day. 
It happened, on the morning of their 
leaving home, and when the careful 
mother was desirous of making over the 
supervision of her boy to his Miss Ana, 
for the week, that more in mischievous 
frolic than with deliberate naughtiness, 
he turned the seriousness of them both 
into ridicule. His buoyant exuberance 
of spirits appeared for the time to defy 
control, and with a desperate pertinacity 
he seemed bent on the indulgence of his 
sportive levity. Even when his mother 
was entering her carriage, she once more 
called the gleeful boy to her side, to 


THE EMIGKANT’s MOTHER. 39 


dra w from him the assurances she wished 
in regard to his deference to Mrs. Jones 
while herself would be absent. But his 
waywardness even then, got the better 
of his usual filial deference, and repeat- 
ing some heartless joke, he tripped away 
from her without the parting caress. 

The second morning after her depart- 
ure, at a very early hour, Mrs. Jones 
gently opened the door of his bed-room, 
and waked him by repeated, but cautious 
appeals. When his eyes were fairly 
open and turned on her, the sad, but un- 
usually calm and studied aspect in which 
she stood gazing upon him, awakened 
first his curiosity and then a more painful 
emotion. Guardedly, and with great de- 
liberation, she proceeded to inform him 
that during the dead hours of the night, 
while he had been wrapped in uncon- 
scious slumber, a neighbor had aroused 


40 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

her to communicate unwelcome tidingSi 
which she thus related : 

His dear papents had met with a sad 
accident. They were hurrying from their 

first appointment in C . When scarce 

a mile from the church, as they were 
* descending a hill, the harness gave way 
(or had not been properly secured), the 
carriage ran upon the horse, and the 
frightened animal both ran and kicked 
violently, upsetting their carriage and se- 
riously injuring them both. Your father 
was considerably bruised, but he was 
able to rise from the ground ; and he 
found your mother” — here the faithful 
creature was fairly choked, and for a 
moment could not go on with her state- 
ment — quite unable to rise, one of her 
limbs badly broken near to the body, 
and in most excruciating pain she was 
carried into the nearest house.” 

It was a sad morning to him. Unac- 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 41 


customed to such affliction, to such se- 
verity of physical anguish in the person 
of her whom he loved best, it would 
have moved the most indifferent to wit- 
ness the keenness of his sufferings. Very 
interesting was the spectacle of that true- 
hearted attendant, the faithful Mrs. Jones, 
striving to rise above the consideration of 
the sorrow which wrung her own heart, 
in order to minister the soothings which 
her Christian piety and large experience 
could suggest, to allay the intensity of 
his wild grief “ That mother, from 
whom he had thus parted, so soon and 
so dreadfully a sufferer! And was it 
for his sin that such an infliction had 
been laid on one of the gentlest and best 
of earth ?” Such were some of his se- 
vere self-upbraidings. His faithful nurse,, 
who knew how to minister to his mental 
suffering, as she often and long had to 
his bodily diseases, judiciously refrained 
4 * 


42 THE emigrant’s mother. 

at this time from all direct allusion to his 
misdeeds, and strove to turn his thoughts 
to those high and general considerations 
of the wisdom and benevolence of God’s 
dealings, whose equity is undeniable, 
even when clouds and darkness are 
round about Him. 

Fortunate was it for Reuben that ar- 
rangements had immediately to be made 
for his setting forth with his oldest brother 
and wife to visit these parents in their 
sad affliction. The incidents of prepar- 
ing for this journey diverted his mind 
from too intensely poring over the occa- 
sion of it, and the next night they reached, 
together, the scene of the late disaster. 
Yonder by the road side still stood the 
broken carriage from which they had been 
thrown, near the rough rocks on which 
that much loved mother had fallen with so 
•disastrous effect. They enter the neat but 
humble dwelling, and passing the ante- 


THE EMIGKANT’s MOTHER 43 


room they reach the apartment where the 
chief sufferers are found. The father 
they find sitting up, with his head hound 
up, and still suffering from its contusions ; 
and by his side, stretched on that low 
bed lies the mother, more severely 
stricken. The first sympathetic emo- 
tions occasioned by this meeting are 
over. Young Reuben begins to look 
around him with more composure. He 
learns one by one the pangs and sorrows 
which that fond parent has experienced. 
Especially on the second morning after 
his arrival, when the surgeon, as was his 
practice on each alternate day, removed 
the bandages from the broken limb and 
submitted it to the needful but intensely 
painful friction, deemed by him indispen- 
sable to prevent soreness or want of 
healthful circulation of the injured parts, 
the boy listened for the first time in his 
life to the outburst, from maternal lips, of 


44 THE emigrant’s mother. 

those shrieks of bitter anguish which all 
her fortitude could not restrain. This, 
not for an instant merely, but continued 
for successive moments, which seemed to 
him like ages. As long as he could, he 
clung to her side, seemingly anxious to 
lighten by sharing her pains. But over- 
come by the scene, he hurried from the 
house, plunged into an adjacent grove, 
and even there, at a great distance, the 
groans and almost screams of his mother’s 
agony still followed him, and pierced, not 
his ears only, but his very soul. 

An hour afterward he returned. She 
was lying exhausted, but comparatively 
free from pain, upon her couch. She had 
wiped the tears from her eyes, and call- 
ing the loving boy to her side, she pressed 
his head to her bosom, and with the 
warmth of such love as a mother only 
can exercise, she seemed to reward him 
for the tenderness of his sympathy with 
her sufferings. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 45 


At a later hour, more probably for bis 
gratification than her own, she allowed 
him to busy himself for some time, in 
striving to clear the matted tresses of 
her hair, and neatly complete the braids 
which platted it in more comely form. 
It was w^hile alone with her in this filial 
service, that, with most gentle and win- 
ning sweetness, she inquired of him in 
regard to his treatment of his ever faith- 
ful Miss Ana. Was it the overwhelming 
tenderness and power of his own emo- 
tions which choked his utterance ? Or did 
the same perverse spirit which produced 
his wrong conduct partially regain ascen- 
dency ? so as to prevent his falling on 
her neck, and sobbing forth his penitent 
confession, as he had often on his knees 
done in secret, for the last four days. Or 
was the perverse spirit of delay whisper- 
ing its delusive suggestions into his heart? 

That Tvhen she should return to his now 


46 THE emigrant's mother. 

so desolate home, there would be a better 
time to convince her how truly and deeply 
he mourned over, how sincerely he re- 
pented of the light-hearted folly which 
had given them so much pain.” Perhaps 
it was a combination of them all, which 
operated to prevent his using this last 
favorable opportunity to give joy to that 
mother’s heart. Seeing that he hesitated 
to answer her inquiry, (and standing as 
he then did behind her, she could not 
discern the depth of his manifested feel- 
ing), she contented herself with the ex- 
pression of her kind and earnest hope, 
that never would he again so trifle with 
the sacred and deep solicitude for his re- 
ligious welfare, of one who, in her own 
feebleness, had been to him so nearly a 
mother : and others coming into the apart- 
ment, the topic was not again resumed. 
Alas, what would not this inconsiderate 
boy have afterwards given for one mo- 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 47 


ment’s opportunity to have assured that 
mother of his sorrow, and sought her 
willing and ready forgiveness. 

After some four days passed at his 
mother’s bed-side, Reuben returned again 
to his henceforth sad home. Three weeks 
had elapsed after the misfortune had be- 
fallen them. His father, once and again, 
had returned for the performance of his 
official duties : he was even now at his 
lonely home, and as all accounts of the 
speedy convalescence of his wife were 
favorable, he began to encourage himself 
and his now motherless household, that 
ere long he hoped to move back into 
her accustomed place, her who had not 
only been the light of his dwelling, but 
the joy and solace of all their hearts. 
The evening before, this had been the 
theme of his remark, ere he bowed down 
for prayer with the now broken circle. 

In the morning, the pastor was earlj' 


48 THE emigrant’s mother. 

hurried from home, for some secular busi- 
ness in the opposite direction from that 
in which, at a later hour, he had hoped to 
set forth to visit his suffering companion. 
Heuben, Mrs. Jones, and some other 
casual inmates of the abode, were still in 
the breakfast room, when a stranger rode 
up, and inquiring if this was the resi- 
dence of the Rev. Mr. , received 

an affirmative answer, and immediately 
dismounted and entered the dwelling. 
His look was a sad and weary one, and 
his horse bore marks of rapid and long 
travel. When seated, he inquired very 
deliberately and emphatically for the min- 
ister, or either of his sons. 

Young Reuben came forward, and re- 
ceived from the stranger an open letter, 
addressed to his father. Hastily he 
glanced over the lines, written and signed 
by the attending physician of his dear 
mother. They rather blindly intimated, 


TEE emigrant’s MOTHER. 49 


than clearly revealed the astounding fact, 
that at a late hour the previous evening 
the pastor had experienced a great loss. A 
hasty perusal conveyed even to the mind 
of the child the overwhelming tidings. 
For a moment he gazed in silence on the 
messenger ; then, calmly he asked, does 
this mean that my mother is dead ?” All 
eyes were fixed on him who alone could 
give the required information. He felt 
the painfulness of his duty, and for a mo- 
ment his faltering tongue seemed unable 
to perform its office. But dashing a tear 
from his manly cheek, he embraced the 
dear boy in his arms, and falteringly said. 

She will never thus clasp you more.” 
That day, and the following one, the 
house was indeed a Bochim, a place of 
tears. 

Then they brought her lifeless remains 
to her late cheerful dwelling. The wid- 
owed father saw all his now motherless 


50 THE EMIGKANT’s MOTHER. 

children gathered there. Far and wide 
spread the mournful tidings, and through 
an extensive circle of loving hearts the 
pang of grief for her sudden loss was 
felt.* 

Then came the mournful funeral. The 
late autumnal rains were sending down a 
copious flood — the withered leaves fell 
thick and fast, and through the hared 
branches of forests and fruit trees the 
sighing winds breathed their sad re- 
quiem. The holy man of God, the chief 
mourner’s officiating brother, and one 
well able to sympathise with his sor- 
rows, stood up from the sacred desk to 
proclaim, “ I heard a voice from heaven 
saying unto me. Write, blessed are the 

DEAD THAT DIE IN THE LORD.” 

Then despite the storm, a great throng 
gathered around the open coffin, to look for 

* She died of apoplexy, superinduced probably by her 
prostration, for so long a period, by that broken limb. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 51 


the last time on the remains of her they 
had loved so well. A truer mourner stood 
not among that multitude than weeping 
Mrs. Jones. For more than a dozen years 
she had been the inseparable companion 
of the deceased in all the varied circum- 
stances of their condition through joy 
and sorrow. The power of that Chris- 
tian spirit which both had experienced 
and were enabled to illustrate had made 
them one. In the different positions they 
occupied, each knew how to conduct and 
feel toward the other; for the golden 
rule was their welcome guide. There 
had been just those differences — ^not to 
say contrasts — ^in their temperaments, 
their mental and moral training, and 
their position in life, which made the 
one the fit complement of the other. 
What the one did not possess was found 
in the other, and the willing coalescence 
seemed to imply that they had felt them- 


52 THE emigrant’s mother. 

selves mutually dependent, mutually in- 
complete, but by union and co-operation 
with each other. When the bereaved 
family returned that evening to their 
henceforth more desolate dwelling, the 
widowed father and husband, by the 
soothing ministries of his official asso- 
ciates, had his heart lifted above the 
crushing sorrows of the hour, to fix 
itself on the glorious themes which, in 
like circumstances, he had proffered to 
those who were thus stricken. The sons, 
too, felt that the full tide of generous 
gushing sympathy from kindred and 
friends was warmly turned upon them. 
Reuben especially, as the only one at 
home and not yet risen to manhood, 
shared more largely than the rest in 
these soothing alleviations. But how 
few knew or cared to think of her sor- 
row, who felt, not less keenly than any 
Other, the overwhelming, stunr ing blow 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 53 

which had fallen upon them all! Mrs. 
Jones, in the hustle of that scene, was to 
be called on by every body and for ever}'’ 
thing, a kind of factotum, who was ex- 
pected to know and do whatever was re- 
quired, and whatever no one else could. 

Long, dismal, and comparatively cheer- 
less was the winter which followed. By 
the pastor’s desire his eldest son and 
wife came to live with him and his be- 
reaved family. But so great was the con- 
trast, to Mrs. Jones especially, between 
the friend she had lost, and the young, 
gay, pleasure-loving woman, who, not- 
withstanding the kindness of her heart, 
seemed to have no religious sympathies 
and principles in harmony with her own, 
that the void was in no degree filled. 
The words of Christian hope and cheer 
which she had been accustomed to ex- 
change with her who had now passed 
away, could no longer be fittingly uttered 
5 ^ 


b4: THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

or their response listened to. She knexv 
there was the same God and Father 
above, and to Him at least, in the pri- 
vacy of her retirement, she loved to pour 
out her soul. At the family altar, too, 
the morning and evening offerings were 
constant and fervent. For poor, mother- 
less Reuben she felt, if possible, a warmer 
and livelier religious concern than ever 
before, and many were the judicious ef- 
forts and friendly counsels with which she 
strove to turn his young heart into the 
ways of early piety, that he might not 
forget his sainted mother’s God and Sa- 
viour. In the early days of his bereave- 
ment, she noticed with joy that his heart 
seemed more impressible, his conscience 
more tender, his will more disposed to 
bow to God’s requirement. But youth- 
ful associates, the scenes of gayety and 
thoughtlessness wRich were soon brought 
in his way, and the proneness of the un- 


THE emigrant's MOTHER. 55 


renewed to relapse into more confirmed 
waywardness, — 

“ When disappointment mocks the roving heart, 

Still of its own delusions weakly fond, 

And from forbidden pleasures loath to part, 

Though shrinking oft beneath correction’s keenest 
smart.” — 

was strikingly noticeable in the few months 
of his future progress. 

Gradually, hut on the whole rapidly 
and fearfully, she noticed the deteriora- 
tion of his principles and practice. He 
was fast becoming a young man, and he 
no longer listened so patiently or heeded 
so carefully the counsels and cautions 
which pious lips and Christian hearts 
would gladly minister to him. He loved 
to debate, to argue ; sometimes beginning 
this from the mere spirit of opposition, 
and to see if he could not confute the 
simple and pious with whom he was sur- 
rounded ; and at others from the unholy 
bias of a heart reluctantly yielding to or 


56 THE emigrant’s mother. 

else beginning to spurn the restraints 
with which he had hitherto felt himself 
encompassed. 

In this transition state, how hard for 
one over-vain of the incipient smart 
ness which he was now beginning to 
develop, and which the injudicious praised 
just enough to fan the embers to a flame, 
— how difficult did Mrs. Jones find it, 
when often she attempted to stem the 
tide of worldliness, and unholy compli- 
ance with sinful practices and corrupting 
amusements. He was now beginning to 
feel the full force of allurements to all 
the round of such youthful indulgences 
and pleasures. She, who knew so well 
how they had been regarded by that now 
sainted mother, and who felt continually 
the charge which those last audible accents 
had left on her ear, to guard her youngs 
est from all evil,” was now struggling 
with the difficulties of her situation. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 57 


Having no real authority, she could at 
most only persuade ; and she was often 
made to feel, alas, how sadly, that folly 
is bound up in the heart of a child. 

Should she reiterate her remonstrances 
with an unwelcome pertinacity, thus im- 
periling altogether her future influence ? 
Or on the contrary should she timidly, 
and she feared unfaithfully withhold her 
counsel, just when the crisis of a first 
wrong decision was about to be consum- 
mated ? With what deep solicitude did 
she often carry these doubts and perplex- 
ities before the throne of grace, and plead 
for that divine Wisdom which is alike 
profitable for this hfe and that which is 
to come. How great the relief she here 
found, even in the most trying emer- 
gencies. Hid what she thought wrong, 
for the time prevail? undiscouraged by 
her apparent failure, she would strengthen 
her heart, and hope, by pleading still the 


58 THE emigrant’s mother. 

promise and covenant of Him who has 
never said, Seek ye my face in vain. She 
knew that He had all hearts in His hand 
and could turn them as the rivers of 
water are turned. That all events, even 
those apparently the most untoward and 
discouraging, could yet be made under 
his wise subordination, to minister to the 
good of the subject of her petitions. She 
remembered sometimes with a cheering 
faith, how God dealt with the motherless 
Joseph — making the very means and in- 
struments which apparently foretokened 
his ruin, the mysterious steps of his ulti- 
mate advancement and success. 

It was evening at the pastor’s dwelling 
— and as very often now happens, he is 
absent. His son’s wife, now assuming 
the place of mistress of the household, 
with faithful Miss Ana for her helper, are 
together engaged in some of their usual 
toils, and Reuben, as he was often wont, 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 59 


was sitting by them. A country ball, or 
dancing party, had just been agreed on 
among his young associates, and he had 
been solicited to join in it. Without any 
real love for such amusements, for the en- 
joyment and participation in which his past 
staid and sober life had so little fitted 
him, there was on his part an unwilling- 
ness to be deemed singular, or to be so 
far separated from the blithesome and 
jocund companionship of his youthful as- 
sociates. He dreaded to be singular, and 
many a time, the fear that he should be 
thought extra good and sober, because he 
was the parson’s son, had induced him to 
put on airs, and utter words of bravado 
savoring of impiety and irreligion. Should 
he now evade his father’s watchfulness, 
and stealthily hie away to the ball ? This 
was the grave question he is secretly 
revolving, and by some means his sister- 
in-law has become aware of it. With 


60 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

her characteristic desire to please, more 
than to profit him, she introduces the 
theme for discussion among those three 
only, with a tacit understanding that her 
pious husband, and his father, the minis- 
ter, should know nothing of what was 
there said. The evident purpose of this 
conversation, then and there, was to bring 
over, or silence Widow Jones,” as the 
young mistress called her, so that her op- 
position might no longer lie in the way 
to his attendance. 

What harm can there be in a little 
innocent dancing among young people ?” 
said the young, gay sister-in-law. I am 
sure I do not think young people should 
always act like old ones, and pretend to 
be sober and quiet when they do not feel 
like it.” 

. Reuben chimed in most willingly, and 
stigmatized the scrupulosity which would 
refuse such indulgences to the young. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 61 


For his part he could see no use in it. 
He wondered why the Christian people 
should so hate a little pleasurable indul- 
gence. 

The widow hesitated whether to say 
any thing ; but as she could see by the 
inquiring looks of both her companions, 
that they desired to draw out some ex- 
pression from her, and moreover feared 
that her silence would be taken for assent, 
she meekly remarked that there were 
pleasures more secure from excess and 
perversion, which afforded a higher and 
more permanent joy than dancing to the 
sound of the viol, which the Scripture 
seemed to forbid. 

The pert boy thought this a good op- 
portunity to evince his knowledge of 
Scripture as well as his powers of argu- 
mentation, and, with some supercilious- 
n^s, he replied, — That he had read the 
Bible through, as she very well knew, 
6 


C2 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

and that he found more in favor of dan- 
cing than against it. He even took down 
Ills father’s Concordance from the book 
shelf, and out of some two dozen places 
where the dance, or dances, or dancing 
were mentioned in all the Bible, he was 
very sure that two to one commended it. 
David, the man after God’s own heart, 
and Solomon, the wisest man, and even 
the good father of the Prodigal Son, had 
all practiced or promoted it. He looked 
very self-complacent after this learned 
array, and said he should like to have 
Miss Ana, or any one else, show him the 
Scripture authority for prohibiting dan- 
cing. 

She thought there was a great differ- 
ence between David’s dancing before the 
Lord as a religious duty, and such frolics 
of the young as tended to exclude God 
from their thoughts. And finally, she 
said that his deceased mother and her- 


THE emigrant's MOTHER. G3 


self had often spoken of that Scripture 
declaration, Whatsoever is not of faith 
is sin,” as cutting up by the roots such 
levity as an immortal being, hable at any 
moment to be summoned into eternity, 
could not consistently engage in. Turn- 
ing on him a look of utmost tenderness 
and kindness, she added, ^Hhat sainted 
mother has nobler employment now, and 
such she sought with many prayers and 
tears for you.” 

This testimony was not lost upon the 
often wayward boy. He knew that his 
reprover was right — that his mother had 
been right — that his father’s desires for 
him, which for the last half hour he had 
been planning to contravene, were also 
right, and for this once, at least, his fool- 
ish thoughts of pleasure in the giddy 
mazes of the dance were abandoned. 
This was only a specimen of the man- 
ner in which this humble domestic, tins' 


64 THE emigrant’s mother. 

real “help,” as the New Englanders 
often call those assistants in their fam- 
ilies whom they would not degrade by 
the name of servants, watched over the 
moral and religious interests of this now 
motherless hoy. 

Many months thus passed away, and 
then another change occurred in the pas- 
tor’s family. He brought home a new 
wife for himself, a new mother for Reu- 
ben, and a new companion for Mrs. Jones. 
For weeks the two latter had been ex- 
pecting this great event. Busy tongues 
had been not sparingly suggesting to the 
overgrown boy, “Well, you are to have 
a stepmother soon. She will make you 
know the difference between her and 
your own mother.” “ You need not ex- 
pect much indulgence or kindness here- 
after.” These, with other intimations of 
the like character, just adapted to fill his 
mind with unwelcome, misleading pre- 


THE emigrant's MOTHER. 65 

judices, were plentifully urged on his 
attention. But in these unpropitious 
circumstances, how discreet and faithful 
was the part acted by this foster-mother 
of his early years. Instead of chiming 
in with such intimations as would alien- 
ate his regard, and even his filial affec- 
tion from one who came to meet with 
difficulties and trials not a few, in her 
new and delicate position, Mrs. Jones 
seemed determined to see every thing in 
the new comer through the most favor- 
able medium. She had ready excuses 
for any thing which seemed strange or 
wrong, and free and ready suggestions 
as to the advantages which he would 
derive from this new relationship. 

Indeed, there was a demand for aU 
these assiduous and kindly efforts on 
her part, to smooth the way for him 
properly to respect, and much more to 
love, one who, with many excellencies, 
6 * 


66 THE emigrant’s mother 

was as unlike his own now sainted moth- 
er^ as it is possible two good women 
could be. Tbe one bad been free and 
fond in all ber intercourse with bim, 
and all others who bad just claims to 
ber kindly regards. Her successor, on 
the contrary, was reserved, stately and 
chillingly cold in her manners. Some- 
what exacting, too, be thought her, both 
towards himself and his revered hither. 
Suffice it to say, her excellencies did 
not manifest themselves promptly. She 
might possibly have affection, but she 
did not show it. She might be amiable 
and good, but he thought the evidences 
of it did not appear. Many were the 
debates which he held with the good 
“Miss Ana,” in which she strove t(. 
convince him, and not altogether in vain, 
that there was sterling worth, and a deep 
heart-full of kindness, even in that pre- 
cise and stately formalism, which seemed 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 67 


to lock itself up, and repress all the out- 
gushing of affection. Undemonstrative 
as were her ways, depend on it, Reu- 
ben, you will find her a good mother, it 
you will prove yourself a good son.” 
With such timely hints and assurances 
she was indeed performing for the youth 
an invaluable service. 

In the mean time, the widow’s heart 
was greatly exercised in regard to her 
only son’s course, and her own. Ammon 
had visited the fertile regions west of the 
Alleghanies. For a considerable period 
he had labored there on good monthly 
wages, but with the laudable ambition so 
uniformly characterizing the young New 
Englander, he could no longer content 
himself without becoming the proprietor 
of a farm. He noticed that some of his 
neighbors at the East, who had removed to 
the virgin and productive soil of the Ohio 
valley and there purchased wild lands, 


68 THE emigrant’s mother. 

and opened farms by their industry and 
enterprise, were rapidly becoming fore- 
handed, and had the fair prospect of soon 
securing a reasonable independence for 
themselves and their families. No won- 
der that the example was contagious. 
The young man wrote to his mother, 
begging her approval and co-operation in 
his proposed enterprise. They could to- 
gether secure a section of rich land ; his 
vigorous arm could clear off the forests, 
fence the fields, and gather the bounte- 
ous harvests which were there yielded, 
and with youthful, enthusiastic ardor, he 
portrayed the picture of their happiness 
and success, when living together, she 
might be spared the severe toils for 
which, by and by, in declining years, her 
strength would prove inadequate. 

All this she weighed with the prudent 
cautiousness for which she was so noted, 
but she also took into account the heavy 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 69 


fer contra balance of which he seemed 
unmindful. In that new country, would 
she not of necessity be cut off from her 
dearly loved religious privileges ? Would 
not many social and moral privations also 
be experienced in thus leaving the home 
of her youth, and the friends of her 
love ? She remembered that when Lot 
had preferred the weU-watered and fruit- 
ful plain, it had involved himself and 
family in the corruption and peril of Sod- 
om. The result of all her reflections 
induced her to appeal to her son to re- 
turn and dwell among their own kindred 
in dear New England. And to make 
her proposition more welcome to him, 
she proffered him the handsome amount 
of all her hard earnings and careful sav- 
ings, about five hundred dollars, to be 
invested by him in any way he thought 
best, if he would thus comply with her 
wishes. 


70 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

The final decision was not made until 
after Ammon’s return from the West. 
Then, mother and son, in many a long 
and anxious interview, endeavored duly 
to weigh all the counterbalancing consid- 
erations. Can it be doubted which scale 
would preponderate ? A loving mother’s 
heart could not long hold out against the 
enthusiastic ardor, which, even at that 
early day, the West, the mighty giant 
West could enkindle. Ingenuously, too, 
he frankly confessed there was another 
attraction for him towards the setting 
sun, in the person of a lovely young 
lady there, with whom he had already 
formed most endearing ties of betrothal, 
and she and her father’s family were 
linked to that new and fruitful country 
Of her he spoke to his mother as an en 
amored lover would be sure to speak, 
assuring her of a daughter’s respect and 
love, and that it should be the sedulous 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 71 


endeavor of them both, to make her 
home with them as happy and peaceful 
as she could desire. 

The die was cast, and the decision was 
soon and widely known. Very generally 
useful had widow Jones made herself for 
all these years in that community ; nor 
could the kind-hearted neighbors think 
of parting with her, but with deep and 
sincere regret. But the keenest pang 
was felt in the family she had so long 
and faithfully served. Changed as that 
domestic circle was by the death of one 
and the removal of others, the tie that 
bound her to them was less strong than 
at earlier periods of her connection with 
them. She still revered the good pastor 
and his fervent prayers; she much re- 
spected the new wife he had brought 
home; but towards Reuben, whom she 
had nursed in infancy, and watched and 
cared for so anxiously in sickness and 


72 THE emigrant’s mother. 


infirin health for so many years, and for 
whose spiritual welfare—espeoially since 
his mother’s tragic exit — she had felt an 
interest so deep and prayerful, her re- 
gards were of the most tender and hal- 
lowed character. Should she leave him 
in person, she comforted herself with the 
thought that however widely they might 
be sundered, her prayers would still as 
perseveringly be offered in his behalf: 
and the God who hears and answers the 
petitions put up to Him in faith, she 
could not believe would disregard her 
own and the deceased mother’s earnest 
cries for his salvation. 

It was in the early spring of 1814, on 
a pleasant morning of the verdant year, 
the birds chanting forth their bhthest 
notes, and all nature rejoicing in bright 
hope and vigor, that a double wagon of 
peculiar construction, and freighted with 
the choicest and most prized commodities. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 73 

whicli would be of enhanced value in 
their distant home, stood at the humble 
door of the parsonage. The hearty 
adieus, and the mutually implored God 
bless you” of all had been uttered, and 
the vigorous hand of Ammon Jones with 
some difficulty held in the impatient and 
well-fed steeds which were then the only 
reliance for accomplishing what the loco- 
motive now does for us with such vast 
increase of celerity and comfort; when 
his mother, turning last of all to Reuben, 
took the boy’s hand, and with an emo- 
tion which seemed to pervade her whole 
frame, once more conjured him by all 
the sacred memories of the past, and 
by his known sense of duty, to seek the 
Lord in youth, to serve Him all his days, 
and to meet her and the departed in 
heaven. With convulsed and overpow- 
ering feelings they parted, not expecting, 
to meet again on earth. 


74 THE emigrant’s mother. 

We will not here attempt the minute 
description of their experiences in that 
long journey — then usually occupying 
from twenty-four to thirty days — and 
now with incomparably greater ease ac- 
complished in as many hours. No un- 
toward event was experienced by them, 
except some slight break-down in the 
mud they encountered near Lake Erie, 
as they passed through Northern Penn- 
sylvania. 

They reached, at length, the El Dora- 
do of their hopes and aims. Kind neigh- 
bors gathered around them with interest, 
and helped them to rear the log-cabin 
which was tb form their incipient home. 
A slight opening in the deep forest of 
huge and lofty trees had been made, the 
wheat crop, ^^got in” the last autumn, 
was now springing up in rank luxuri- 
ance, the corn and the garden were 
planted, and in an almost incredibly 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 75 


short period, appeared in vigorous, thrift 
ty growth, giving promise of ample re- 
compense for their toil. 

But there were other and less favora 
ble experiences before them. Rapacious 
beasts of prey swarmed in the forest in 
such close proximity to their very door, 
that the howling of wolves, the growl of 
the surly bear, and the screech of the 
American panther were no unusual sounds 
in their ears even by day ; while under 
the cover of night’s darkness they held 
high carnival all around their humble 
dwelling. Woe to lambs, or calves, oi 
poultry of any kind, not strongly de 
fended against these nocturnal invaders 
Many a time when these domestic ani- 
mals had been, as was supposed, secure- 
ly penned even adjoining their own cabin, 
the hungry wolves in droves would at- 
tempt pulling down the very wails of 
these sheds, to get at their victims, and 


76 THE emigrant’s mother. 

with the utmost difficulty, even by the 
rifle of young Jones, could they be 
driven back to their lairs. 

Nor, for the first years of their fron- 
tier life, were they entirely free from 
visits of more formidable foes. True, 
victories of Perry on the lake, and of 
General Harrison on land, had struck 
terror into the tribes of the tawny sav- 
ages ; but straggling bands, or wily 
scouts of these treacherous, and often 
drunken and ferocious red skins, were 
still prowling around the sparse settle- 
ments of the whites, exciting alarm 
where they did not commit depredation 
or murder. How far off, too, in any 
case of difficulty, were their nearest 
neighbors. A mile or two, through roads 
nearly impassible, on account of dense 
and tangled forests, and almost unfathom- 
able mud, had often to be traversed to 
reach the nearest habitation. But, ere 


THE EMIGRANT S MOTHER. 77 


long, Ammon brought home his bride, 
fulfilling thus his promise to give a 
daughter to his fond mother, to ' cheer 
her heart in this wilderness life. And 
though they were far from the house 
of the Lord, and for years rarely could 
welcome the approach, or listen to the 
accents of the messengers of salvation, 
&he remembered with satisfaction, that 
the God and Saviour we worship is not 
confined to dedicated sanctuaries. 

“ Where’er we seek Him, He is found 
And every place is hallowed ground. 

For He, within no walls confined, 

Inhabiteth the humble mind.” 


This humility, and the spirit of true 
and warm devotion, she habitually cher- 
ished. How unspeakable was her satis- 
faction, even in these far-off places of the^ 
vviblerness, to hallow the Christian Sab- 
bath, and sound forth in her sweet and 


78 THE emigrant’s mother. 

trustful notes of praise, the honor of the 
divine Redeemer. The well-worn Bible, 
which, in former years she had so much 
read and prized, became now dearer to 
her than ever. And when at distant 
intervals, a pious neighbor, or some 
chance traveler who knew and loved the 
Lord, could pass an hour or a night be- 
neath their humble roof, how like cold 
water to a thirsty soul, were the mo- 
ments of converse with them on the 
themes dearest to her heart, and now, 
all the more prized because of their in- 
frequency. 

Cares, also, of another kind began to 
increase upon her. Children’s children 
were speedily multiplied, bringing, in- 
deed, no httle augmentation to her toil 
and watchfulness by day and by night ; 
but bringing, also, their own sweet and 
appropriate remuneration to a loving 
heart. 


PART III.- 


“ There ’s a divinity that shapes our ends, 
Eough hew them as we may.” 



QUARTER of a century 
passed since the events last 
chronicled in our little history 
occurred. Many of the individ- 
uals mentioned in this narrative, 
finished their earthly course, and 
simple incidents of our story had 
nearly faded from memory. Near the 
close of summer, in the year 1840, a 
middle aged man of thoughtful aspect, 
and in clerical dress, was seen very early 
in the morning entering the stage, whose 
destination — marked upon its panel — was 
the southern portion of one of our West- 
ern Stales. He has been spending the 


80 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

last few days as the welcome and honored 
guest among sundry families, who, years 
before, had taken their departure from 
his and their native town in far-off New 
England. Having had occasion to per- 
form some official anniversary service at 
a distinguished university, which brought 
him nearer than ever before to the world- 
renowned cataract of Niagara, he has- 
tened thither to fill his mind and heart 
with those ennobling emotions which the 
contemplation of God’s handiwork rarely 
fails to inspire. Then the idea suddenly 
possessed him to wend his way still fur- 
ther West and look at the beloved neigh- 
bors and fellow-townsmen of his youth, 
in their new homes. Reaching them un- 
expectedly, and bringing large stores of 
treasured memories, and recent tidings 
of the dear ones they had left behind 
them, he became, not less for his own 
sake, than for these adjuncts of his visit, 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 81 


a highly-esteemed and warmly-welcomed 
guest. From house to house, from one 
new home to another, he was carried in 
a kind of princely state, witnessing, with 
wonder and delight, the progress which 
each household had made in subduing 
the wilderness, and spreading around 
them the sources of comfort, of afflu- 
ence, and even of almost sumptuous 
gratification. 

He wished to extend his tour a day’s 
ride or two, to meet other loved objects 
of his former spiritual care, near the 
southern border of the State, and for this 
purpose, ere the sun had risen, he took 
his seat in the stage above-mentioned. 

But many a day, opening auspiciously, 
is clouded soon with unexpected reverses. 
Our traveler, not unlikely, had indulged 
over-freely in the fine fruits which, in 
such abundance, the teeming fertihty of 
I this virgin soil had } ielded, and in rapidly 


82 THE emigrant’s mother. 

passing from one to another of these old 
neighbors, each had insisted that he must 
eat of their pears, and peaches, and mel- 
ons, and the hot-house grapes, whose lus- 
cious clusters invited to a generous partici- 
pation. Suffice it to say, the feverish un- 
rest of the night followed him from the pil- 
low to the stage ; his whole frame seemed 
pervaded with the encroachments of se- 
vere disease. The reeling, dizzy brain, 
the fevered lip, the bloodshot eye, the nau- 
sea, and the writhings of spasmodic pain, 
all conspired to invest his situation with 
untold horrors. The stage became over- 
crowded, and the day, as it advanced, 
proved intensely warm. In the early 
part of it, while ascending the long hills, 
or when stopping for change of horses, 
our passenger attempted to walk forward, 
and, by vigorous exercise, to throw off, 
in healthy perspiration, the oppression, 
so unusual, which now encompassed and 


THE EMIGRANT S MOTHER. 83 


pervaded him. It was in vain. And 
equally futile were all endeavors, at the 
little hostleries where they from time to 
time stopped, to obtain any medicinal 
remedies adapted to his necessities. In 
this most unwelcome condition, each pass- 
ing hour of endurance but adding to and 
rendering more intense his sufferings, the 
day was slowly advancing, till the me- 
ridian was considerably passed. Bitter 
and desponding thoughts began to op- 
press his mind. Should he succumb to 
this attack, and, at some dwelling by the 
road-side, lay himself down to die, as 
the lamented Grimke, a few years ear- 
lier, and in the same vicinity had done 
He thought of his pleasant and far-off 

* T, S. Grimk^, one of the distinguished men of South 
Carolina, as a legislator, a reformer, a scholar ; who, after 
* delivering the discourse on American Education, before the 
Western Literary Institute, at Cincinnati, died of cholera at 
a house h-' the road-side, on his way to Columbus, October 
1834. 


84 THE emigraxt's mother. 

home, of wife and children whom he 
might see no more, and again and again 
nerved himself, with all the power he 
could command, to resist these down- 
ward and fatal tendencies. But each 
rally, each attempt to call up the re- 
served forces within him, became weaker 
and weaker; and revolting and painful 
as was the thought, he felt that he must 
yield and seek the friendly shelter of 
some dwelling ere insensibility should 
utterly prostrate him. They were pass- 
ing an unpretentious hut somewhat am- 
ple house, and here he prevailed on the 
stageman to leave him, to live or die, as 
God should direct. His baggage was de- 
posited by the gate-way, and with tot- 
tering steps he gained the door, explained 
his condition to the surprised inmates of 
the abode, and bespoke, as best he could, 
their compassionate hospitalities. They 
neither granted nor denied his request, 







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Page 85, 





THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 85 


but seemed considerately to regard liis 
distressed circumstances, only the female 
members of the house being present ; and 
the good house-wife saying she would 
send to the field for her husband to de- 
cide what should be done ; while, in the 
meantime, the sick man was seeking to 
accommodate himself to the unwelcome 
delay. 

At just this crisis of his fate, there 
entered the apartment, from an inner 
door, an aged and matronly looking wo- 
man, evidently a member of the house- 
hold. A little below the medium height, 
of remarkably quiet demeanor, there 
was yet a steady persistence in all her 
bearing which at once indicated that she 
was no cipher in their domestic estab- 
lishment. Briefly, the mistress of the 
mansion explained to grandmother,” as 
she respectfully called her, the condition 
of the suffering stranger, and his eyes 


86 THE emigrant’s mother. 

imploringly met the old lady’s for the 
first time. He thought there was worn 
droiis depth and meaning in the gaze 
with which she now regarded him, and 
as in slow and carefully measured tones 
she uttered some inquiries for the fur- 
ther elucidation of his case, a sudden 
conviction seemed to flash upon the 
minds of both of them. For a moment 
only he hesitated. What he had thought, 
was, indeed, almost too good to be true, 
and yet as he scanned again those small, 
bright, twinkling eyes, that sedate form, 
that pecuhar utterance, he could doubt 
no longer. It was, it must be, his own 
and early loved Miss Ana.” He rose 
with difficulty, and staggered to her 
side ; he grasped the outstretched hands, 
while she, half bewildered, cried out, 
Can this be Reuben ?” 

All uncertainties in regard to his r.e* 
ception were at an end in a moment. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 87 


He found himself conducted t(J theii 
best chamber, and at once surrounded 
by all the ministries of affectionate, de- 
voted regard. In the midst of these ar- 
rangements Ammon’s tall form appeared, 
as in his rough farming attire he ha<l 
hurried to the house on the first sum- 
mons. He was less altered in his aspect 
than his more wrinkled mother ; and the 
sick man was very sure that he should 
have recognized this playmate of his 
youth under any circumstances. Esq. 
Jones, as he was now usually called, 
from having honorably filled a magis- 
trate’s office for years in that communi- 
ty, though himself a very unostentatious 
man, was now prodigal, of his attentions. 
The best medical advice and aid attain- 
able were at once procured, and all the 
members of the family vied with each 
other in rendering the prompt and ef- 
ficient assistance which the circumstan 


88 THE emigrant’s mother. 

oes demanded. Above all, the faithful 
nurse and attendant of his early years, 
this foster-mother, as he loved to call 
her, was most unremitting and earnest 
in her present devotedness to the sick 
man’s necessities. She immediately took 
possession of the chamber nearest his 
own ; she directed, or herself performed 
whatever her own skill in atteildance on 
the sick had taught her was most condu 
cive to his welfare. As she bathed his 
feet, or cooled his burning brow, or 
chafed his temples, or ministered to him 
the needful medicines prescribed, how 
vividly did it impress on both of them 
the remembrance of similar offices which 
she had performed for him in childhood, 
a third of a century ago. No language 
can adequately describe the persevering 
fidelity and womanly skill and tact of 
her attentions. Watching both by day 
and by night, and, with quiet efficiency, 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 89 

seeing that nothing was left uncared for, 
her noiseless step, her gentle hand and 
voice, and loving heart, anticipated his 
necessities, and soothed the perturbed 
and anxious spirit to repose. That up- 
turned, heavenly countenance of hers, 
which seemed instinct with pious confi- 
dence in God^ showed plainly where 
were all her trust and hope. But a few 
days elapsed before his case had reached 
and passed its crisis, and slowly he be- 
gan to amend. Their mutual joy in tjiis 
happy result was unutterable. That 
family of his, whom he lately thought 
would see his face no more, would now 
scarcely hear of his danger e’er their 
anxieties would be relieved by the assu- 
rance of his decided convalescence. 

These loving and long lost friends of 
his youth, also, would not, as they had 
feared, only find him to make for him an 
early grave, far from his kindred. No, 


90 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

by the good hand of his God and theirs, 
upon their earnest endeavors, he was to 
be restored co health and usefulness again, 
to reward their pious assiduities by point- 
ing them to the divine and only efficient 

HEALER. 

After a short time, his recovery be- 
came almost as rapid as had been his 
prostration. To Mrs. Jones and himself, 
those days of recovering mercy, when 
they could uninterruptedly sit for hours, 
side by side, and mutually rehearse the 
w^ay in which the Lord had graciously 
led them, were indeed seasons of richest 
spiritual enjoyment, calling forth devout 
thanksgiving unto God. She told him 
ail the long and varied story of her re- 
moval to the wilderness, her privations 
and exposures, her vigils and toils. How 
grievously she had, for a time, mourned 
over the loss of religious associates and 
privileges, and how, one by one, tho 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 91 


Saviour in whom she confided, had been 
pleased to supply one after another these 
deficiencies. The heralds of the Cross 
had been encouraged by her pious stead- 
fastness and hopefulness, in part, at least, 
to set up their banners on that new field ; 
and amid the log dwellings of the pion- 
eers, as they gathered the little compa- 
nies of those who feared and loved the 
Lord, and their voices went up to Him 
in praise and prayer, while the old for- 
ests around them re-echoed their songs 
of lofty cheer, God bowed His gracious 
heavens and came down, making the 
place of His feet glorious. She told how, 
even there, far away from any consecra- 
ted shrines of worship, in their rude and 
humble dwellings, or under the shade of 
the primeval trees, when they gathered 
for His worship. His Spirit came with 
sweet refreshing on the souls of the be- 
lievers, and carried conviction, too, to 


92 THE emigrant’s mother. 

the hearts of the unrenewed. There, 
and in such circumstances, she had years, 
before, seen her only son, and then his 
wife, and more lately some of their dear 
children, whom she had nursed with a 
mother’s love, and strove to train in the 
way of piety, giving their hearts to the 
Redeemer. These were her compen- 
sations for all her sacrifices, and were 
they not enough ? With devout thank- 
fulness she lifted her tear-dimmed eyes 
to heaven and said, 0 yes, I can 
praise my God and Saviour forever, 
for these tokens of His infinite and 
unmerited love !” 

Together that interesting family bowed 
morning and evening around their do 
mestic altar, and joined the voices of 
young and old in the sweet hymns of 
praise for the divine goodness. As 
strength increased they walked out to- 
gether. She, now nearly three-score and 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 93 


leu years of age, with her stalSf in her 
hand, would often pause to point out 
the localities around their pleasant home 
which had been made memorable by pe- 
culiar joys or sorrows. On the border 
of that wood, not very remote from their 
dwelling, her son had been almost killed 
by accident, when feUing the giant trees of 
the forest. And there she had erected in 
her heart a monument of praise for God’s 
deliverance of his invaluable life. Yon- 
der, just over the hill, in a dwelling of 
one of the neighbors, where they had 
gathered for worship in former years, 
while she was sitting on the rude board- 
seats arranged for the assembly, her foot 
had been dreadfully crushed by the frail 
support of that seat giving way, and 
bringing down all its heavy load on her 
unconsciously exposed limb. For days, 
weeks, yea months, the agony to her was 
indes^j'ibnble ; far greater than amputa- 


94 THE emigrant’s mother. 

tioii would have caused ; but patiently 
she bore all, and was rewarded, as she 
said, with a foot recovered, much bet- 
ter to her than none, or one of wood 
or cork. 

A whole chapter or two might be in- 
terestingly filled with the gathering up 
of her incidental communications in those 
few days, supplemented and confirmed as 
they were, by what the kind-hearted 
grateful neighbors testified in her behalf, 
both as to her influence in her own fam- 
ily, or more widely in the little commu- 
nity around, where, for more than a quar- 
ter of a century, she had been a kind of 
moral an d religious nucleus, around which 
the successive strata had gathered and 
formed themselves to the shape and spirit 
of her example. Modestly, and with be- 
coming self-renunciation of all praise to her- 
self, she spoke of the way in which God 
had led her all hei days ; and specially of 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 95 


the many lessons she had learned in that 
half a usual generation’s length of years 
which she had passed under the roof of 
the pastor at Brookdale, as, under God, 
the means of her preparation for the im- 
portant part which she had been forced 
to act on the new theater of her recent 
residence. 

Recalling to Reuben’s mind the hooks 
she had read in that little family library 
of the good pastor, the principles on 
which himself and his companion acted 
in rearing their own family, and as far 
as possible leading the neighbors and 
the entire community around them to be 
sober-minded, temperate in all things', in- 
dustrious, frugal, and above all. God-fear- 
ing, and Chris t-honoring, in heart and life, 
these these^ said she with emphasis, have 
done so much to make my son’s house 
happy and blessed, and to spread through 
the neighborhood of Bruce vilJe the germs 


OG THE emigrant’s MOTHER-. 

of order, success, and comfort. No won* 
der her influence there had become great. 
Having been planted there in the very 
beginning of the settlement, and for the 
most part having enjoyed uniform health, 
there was scarce a family in the whole 
vicinity to whom she had not hastened 
in their sickness, rendering them most 
welcome and important help, when nc 
other could be procured. She loved the 
children whom she had nursed and cared 
for from their birth, and both children 
and their grateful parents remembered 
her great kindness to them in their hour 
of utmost need. Unostentatious, and 
never unduly assuming, she did not ob- 
trude officiously her opinions or advice ; 
but when the occasion demanded she was 
outspoken and decided ; and her opinions 
on moral and religious, as well as domes- 
tic matters, were widely and greatly re- 
spected. Why do you not ask Mother 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 9 


Jones?” became the common inquiry in 
all questions of importance, within her 
sphere. The commanding influence, and 
the blameless and highly honored charac- 
ter of her son. Esq. Jones, was enhanced 
by his connection with her ; and then, in 
turn, it helped to add its own increment 
to her reputation. See,” said the neigh- 
bors, what her pious consistency has 
wrought in making that family of his 
such patterns as they are !” 

Not a judicious, upright decision did 
the magistrate give, in cases litigated be- 
fore him, nor a successful effort did he 
volunteer as peace-maker among wrang- 
ling neighbors, but what reflected honor 
on his mother’s influence. 

It would have been passing strange, 
while Reuben had been gathering up all 
these testimonies in favor of one to whom 
he owed so much, if she, on her part, 
had failed to elicit from him, what his 
9 


98 THE emigrant’s mother. 

pious gratitude was prompt to acknowL 
edge, what her forming influence had 
enabled him to accomplish. Little by 
little, she drew from him the main story 
of his life. How, the very next year 
after she had left him, so earnestly im 
Yoking on him, in the parting moment, 
the blessings which hers and his moth- 
er’s prayers had sought for him, he had 
given his heart to God, and one year 
later, had been sent forth by his honored 
father’s consent and aid, to prepare for 
usefulness as an ambassador of Christ. 
How, also, very early in his course of 
study, his begun career came near termi- 
nating by the death of his next older 
brother, who had just then finished his 
studies, and ^^with the ardor of a ser- 
aph” began to preach the gospel, only to 
find his course cut short by quick con- 
sumption, and in five months his body 
was laid in the grave. As this was at- 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 99 

tributed to the deleterious influence of 
severe study on his before noble frame, 
great was the demur whether or not to 
arrest the course of young Reuben, even 
at the threshold, lest he should in the 
same way be sacrificed, and thus bring 
down the gray hairs of his father to a 
sorrowful grave. Then he told her how 
better counsels finally prevailed, helping 
him to complete his preparations; how 
God had graciously blessed his labors for 
near a score of years, in country and city 
churches where he had been pastor, en- 
abling him to lead many hundreds to put 
on Christ in the pathway of discipleship; 
as she had herself done long before by 
his honored father’s hand. Only two 
months before, his happiness had culmi- 
nated in the conversion and addition to 
his church of his two eldest children. 
How, in fine, that father of his yet lived, 
between eighty and ninety years old^ 


±00 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

able, occasionally, to lead the flock he 
had cared for so long, and especiall}^ 
able, as all his acquaintances said, to 
lead with unsurpassed appropriateness 
and pathos their devotk)ns on those fu- 
neral occasions when any of his asso- 
ciates in earlier years, like the withered 
leaves of autumn, fell before the driving 
blast. As these several reminiscences 
of their early years’ connection were one 
by one rehearsed to her, the excellent 
woman would again and again exclaim, 
0 how wonderful has been God’s good- 
ness !” With some little remains of the 
womanly, perhaps laudable, pride of 
early years, she seemed to rejoice in all 
the tokens of public approval which had 
gathered around this boy of her early 
care.” His honor and renown, whenever 
he had reached the high places of the 
field and won a generous meed of public 
approbation, she traced, in part, at least, 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 101 


under the wonder-working providence 
and grace of God, to what she and his 
mother had done and sought for him. 

Soon as he was possibly able to offici- 
ate, the neighbors were all notified to at- 
tend a lecture in the school house near 
Esq. Jones’ residence. It was enough 
to be told that one so nearly a son of the 
honored mother of the settlement would 
there address them, to fill the room at 
an early hour ; and from lips which she 
had so often moistened when parched in 
fever, she now heard the words of life 
and salvation. Nor was this all. The 
communion Sabbath of the little church 
was near at hand. Reuben’s strength, 
as they all thought, was not fully enough 
recovered for him safely to set out on his 
homeward journey, and he must remain 
to gratify all their wishes by aiding their 
stated supply on that important occasion. 
When this was finally agreed on, the no- 
9 ^ 


102 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 


tices went forth very widely, over hill- 
sides and valleys, over prairies and 
through incipient villages already spring 
ing up in that newly settled country. 

The auspicious day at length arrived. 
Its bright sunlight spread over the lawn, 
and at an early hour the family were all 
astir for the needful preparation. The 
younger members on horseback, or on 
foot, or in humbler vehicles, took their 
way to the appointed place, while the 
carriage of Esq. Jones was filled by him- 
self and wife, with his mother and the 
preacher. Long years had passed since 
they had rode to the house of God in 
company, and far the larger portion of 
the companions of their early years were 
with the dead. Scarcely could either of 
them realize that this was more than 
dream. The two miles which they tra- 
versed, furnished, at almost every step, 
some pleasant and grateful recollection. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 103 


First, they passed for a considerable dis- 
tance through the noble domain, the spa- 
cious fields of her son. Many of them 
he had reclaimed by hard and diligent 
toil from their native wildness, and the re- 
mainder he had annexed by purchase. As 
now they were covered over with his flocks 
and herds, or by the lofty and intensely 
verdant and dense-growing Indian corn, 
or showing the golden stubble whence the 
wheat-harvest had just been gathered, 
how natural that a sense of the divine 
goodness vouchsafed to them, should fill 
their glad hearts. Into all this joy their 
guest entered most cordially. The happy 
groups of young men and maidens whom 
they passed on the right hand and the 
left, all hieing to the sanctuary, appeared 
to look up to them with a very unusual 
interest. Their meaning glances of rec- 
ognition seemed almost audibly to say. 
This distinguished preacher, whom ail 


104 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 


are so eagerly pressing to hear, is onl^r 
the result of Mother Jones’ faithful, early 
training.” 

What then were her emotions when 
once and again she heard him, to the 
dense throng of the great congregation, 
preach that gospel, which so often and 
so far away she had heard from his fath- 
er’s pulpit. Wljen, too, from his hand 
she received the symbols of her gracious 
Saviour’s broken body and running blood, 
penetrated with holy gratitude, did not 
her heart, if not her lips, that day cry 
out, ^^Now let me depart in peace, 0 
Lord, for my eyes have seen thy salva- 
tion?” Happy, thrice happy and blest 
was she, in being permitted thus to see 
the fruit of her prayers and early coun- 
sels made useful to her neighbors and 
friends. 

The evening of that very day, after a 
leave-taking as tender, and solemn, and 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 105 


joyful, as their late meeting had been 
unexpected and opportune, one of tho 
noble sons of Esq. Jones, took Reuben a 
few miles on his way to spend the night 
with other pious friends of the cause of 
Christ and of that dear family. This, 
too, had all been arranged by the consid- 
erate wisdom of this foster-mother, who, 
for good reasons, well understood by her- 
self alone, had planned for one of her 
grandsons, this final privilege of a ride, 
and a confidential interview with one 
whom the whole family so much regard- 
ed. What was her motive for this se- 
questered intercourse between them? 
Why, this young man had but lately 
given his heart to the Saviour, and al- 
ready felt — as none but his good grand- 
mother knew — the intense longings of 
holy desire to give himself to the public 
service of the Lord. Will they not, said 
she to herself, find out by a kind of mu- 


106 THE emigrant's MOTHER. 

tual instinct, this great theme of such 
transcendent interest and importance to 
the dear youth, and will not God bless 
to him the counsels of one whose own 
similar experience must have prepared 
him to sympathize with these youthful 
and hallowed aspirations ? So, indeed, 
it fell out. As they rode on their way, 
in answer (who can doubt it?) to her 
prayers, this very topic was introduced : 
the timid ingenuousness of the young 
heart, warmly throbbing with love to the 
Saviour, in whom he had so recently 
believed, was laid open, little by little, 
to this recent stranger : and counsels 
adapted to his case were freely tender- 
ed and as gratefully received. On the 
young man’s return to his home, not long 
were the two together, before he had told 
his honored grandmother all. How fully 
their recent guest had entered into and 
sympathized with all his own feelings of 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 107 


solicitude on the great question of his 
life-labor ; and with what carefulness he 
had sought to guide his inexperienced 
feet in right and safe paths. Again did 
this good mother in Israel lift up her 
withered hands to heaven, and with 
tears of pious thankfulness exclaim, 
This, too, is of the goodness of the 
Lord.” Was it for this,” she asked, 
that God, in part, at least, had brought 
him hither, that another might he helped 
on his way in taking up his cross and 
leaving all to follow Christ ? So,” thought 
she, “when, ere long, I lay down this 
silvered head of mine in the grave, an- 
other who has been dandled on my knees, 
and given to God’s service in my early 
prayers for his consecration to this great 
work, may rise up and go forth in this 
or in heathen lands, to preach the un- 
searchable riches of Christ.” 


PART IV. 


“ Think you that raptured soul 
Now walking humbly in the golden streets, 
Bearing the precious burden of a love 
Too great for utterance, or with hushed heart 
Drinking the music of the ransomed throng, 
Counts death an evil ? No I” 



T pleased her heavenly Father to 
spare the honored life of widow 


Jones to the extreme old age of 
© nearly eighty-five, or fifteen years 
^ after the events last recorded. And 
while little of startling interest occurred 
in that comparatively peaceful period, 
there was still such alternation in her 
varied and sometimes trying experi- 
ences, so much of the rich grace of the 
gospel did she share and exemplify, that 
we may profitably trace, very briefly, 
her subsequent career. 


THE EMIGKANT’s MOTHER. 109 


In the earlier portion of these declin- 
ing years, she still insisted on taking her* 
full share in the family cares and toils. 
It was indeed no longer necessary. Her 
son had been so prospered, and the chil- 
dren, even the youngest of them, were lo - 
fully grown, as no longer to make the 
large demand on her industry and watch- 
fulness which they had formerly. But, 
cleanliness and industry are next to 
godliness,” was the motto which this 
good mother had early learned, and if 
rarely repeated by her lips, it had a sig- 
nificant enforcement in her daily life. 
From long and uniform practice these 
habits had become to her a second na- 
ture. And when that noble son and 
his wife would sometimes say to her, 
Mother, why do you continue to rise 
so early, and insist on sharing still all 
the more burdensome toils and duties of 
the household?” she would quickly re- 
10 


110 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

mark, Somebody must do all this, and 
my comfort and happiness are rather 
increased than diminished by what I 
do.” 

Rising with the sun in summer, and 
long before his appearance in winter, she 
made her own apartment the neat and 
welcome place which it always appeared, 
and then would see to it that aU the 
members of the family were assisted, so 
far as requisite, in their respective duties, 
so that in an orderly, quiet manner they 
might be ready for the breakfast and the 
season of family worship which imme- 
diately followed. Not a little of the 
happiness, and the mutual respect, and 
active good wiU of that numerous house- 
hold of parents, children and servants, 
were the direct result of this good order. 
They did not know its source — did not 
probably even surmise that what all the 
family so much enjoyed, what made this 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. Ill 


dwelling so welcome a home to the per-^ 
manent or casual inmates, was directly 
traceable to the steadfast fidelity in wait- 
ing on the Lord, wLich was there wit- 
nessed. And then again this steady, and 
orderly, and happy morning communion 
with God, was, more than they suspected, 
the result of her resolute carefulness that 
all should be ready in time for it; so 
that without hurry or confusion, it might 
prove to every one of them the sweet- 
est and most hallowed hour of the whole 
day. 

That now venerable woman had known 
by painful contact in all her earlier years, 
how desolate and cheerless are the dwell- 
ings where God is not honored. She 
had felt the bitterness in body and soul 
of constant exposure to the fitful rule and 
wild disorder, the harsh dissonance and 
oft-recurring broils and outbursts of un- 
holy passion, where master and mistress 


112 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

have no fear of God nor love to the Sav- 
iour, no tender meltings of heart in bow- 
ing at the mercy seat, and no suitable con- 
siderateness of the wants and woes of or- 
phan children parceled out among those 
whose tender mercies are cruel, and whose 
hard service is a bondage grievous as the 
Egyptian task-masters. The vindictive 
passion, the outbursts of violence, the 
harsh and causeless chidings, and the 
brutal blows under wliich her young 
frame had quivered and smarted, and 
her spirit often sank in almost hopeless 
despair, she still remembered; and as 
she thought of the happy years which 
succeeded under the roof of the pious 
pastor at Brookdale, where God was al- 
■ ways honored, and the morning and eve- 
ning incense went up from their domes- 
tic altar, she would inevitably draw the 
just conclusion, that surely God does, 
even in this life, pour out His indignation 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 113 


on the families that call not on His name 
while his rich blessing is on them that 
honor Him. She thought of the happi- 
ness resulting to parents and children 
together, when the words which God has 
taught us are treasured in our hearts, 
and taught diligently unto our children, 
talking of them when sitting in our 
houses, and when walking by the way, 
when we lie down, and when we rise up. 
Psalm xcii. 

In the amusements and relaxations 
necessary for us, but which are so often 
perverted as to become scenes of disor- 
der, breaking in most fatally on the reg- 
ulations of a well-ordered family, she 
evinced her true knowledge of human 
nature, and the proper place to fix thej 
limits of indulgence. She loved to wit- 
ness, and even minister to the gleeful 
hilarity and joyousness of young hearts,, 
full to repletion of the outbursting spirit 
10 ^ 


114 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

of freedom. When the allotted tasks of 
toil or of study had benn successfully com- 
pleted, how sweet the smile that said from 
under that tidy cap, and out of those bright 
twinkling eyes and healthful lips, Now 
go and enjoy yourselves.” Well-regula- 
ted and properly limited mirthfulness, the 
happy, side-shaking laugh, the vigorous 
athletic sports, and specially the joyous 
songs of children and youth were sweet 
music to her old ears, and by cherishing 
a love for these sports and innocent pas- 
times of the young, in her own family 
and neighborhood, she helped to keep 
her own heart young also. Wrinkles 
will come upon my face, age will thin 
and blanch my locks,” said she, ^^but 
my care shall be, long as possible to 
keep the former from my heart, and let 
ithe sweet sunshine of loving kindness 
still encircle my brows.” To this was it 
doubtless owing, in a very great degree, 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 115 


that all the children still loved and clung 
to her. It was one of their choicest 
treats to he allowed to sit in her room, 
to hear her stories, and look at the pic- 
tures she so carefully preserved, and 
hear her words of kind encouragement, 
or needed counsel. 

One of the first abiding infirmities of 
her old age, was the loss of hearing. It 
was not sudden and total ; but gradually, 
and, on the whole, pretty fast, she felt 
the loss of listening to the sweet and 
gentle tones of love in their natural ut- 
terances, and those who would make her 
hear them, were obliged to give unusual 
force and distinctness to their expres- 
sions. As this increased from year to 
year, she was soon unable to gather in- 
struction from the ministrations of the 
sanctuary, and as the family was numer- 
ous, and all could not well go at once so 
great a distance, she, with that beautiful 


116 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

considerateness which always character- 
ized her, would insist on remaining at 
home, that her seat in the carriage, and 
then in the house of prayer, might he 
occupied by some who could more profit 
by these privileges. Greatly as she had 
always enjoyed the sound of a preached 
gospel, of the voice of public prayer and 
praise before, and unwelcome as must 
have been the privation of listening to 
the ordinary conversations of tlie loved 
ones in their family circle, it is not recol- 
lected that she ever, for one moment, 
either murmured or complained. The 
same genial smile irradiated her coun- 
tenance, responding to each friendly 
look given her, and she seemed inclined 
all the more gratefully to prize her al- 
most undimmed eyesight, and her pow- 
ers of easy and quick locomotion. What 
a lesson to all ! Instead of repining for 
the loss of something dear, but which 


THE EMIGKANt’s MOTHER. 117 


God in wisdom has removed, to estimate 
more highly and justly the mercies still 
vouchsafed to us. The Bible and hymn 
book, with Baxter’s Saints’ Best, and 
Burder’s Sermons for the Aged, were 
now invested with new interest and at- 
traction. As she read, very often would 
she be marking the passages which ap- 
peared to her most striking, and she 
would point them out for reading to the 
dear friends who came in, and loved to sit 
by her side, indicating how sweetly they 
had relished to her. 

Among the rest of her visitors, her 
dear boy Beuben, as she loved to call 
him, though residing many hundred miles 
from her, made it in his way two or three 
times to visit her. He came always un- 
expected, unannounced ; for the sake of 
the joyful surprise which he knew his 
entrance among them would awaken, and 
specially to the loving heart of this tru^ 


118 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

mother. His father and then his step- 
mother had died soon after his first visit 
to Bruceville, so that really there was no 
one on earth now seeming to him so truly 
his own parent as this loving foster- 
mother. He soon found, too, that by a 
slow and distinct utterance, his voice on 
rather a high key, would penetrate even 
her dull ears, so that for hours togeth- 
er they could carry on pleasant conver- 
sation. How naturally her mind, espe- 
cially in his presence, was continually 
running back to the scenes, the charac- 
ters and events of their early history ! 
Many of her earnest inquiries after the 
welfare of early friends, more especially 
their religious welfare, he was enabled to 
answer to her great satisfaction, and this 
again called forth their united praise to 
God. He, too, could read her favorite 
books, and the choicest parts of them 
which she had specially marked for him, 


THE EMIGKANT’s MOTHER. 119 


BO that she could well understand, and 
thus they enjoyed them together, each 
finding their own satisfaction enhanced 
by this reflex influence of a common 
joy. Together they attempted singing 
some of the dear old hymns, such favor- 
ites with them both, and with others now 
passed into the skies, near half a cen- 
tury before. But her voice had become 
harsh and strong, as is the usual result 
of deafness, instead of evincing the mu- 
sical sweetness of former days, and this 
exercise was not long persevered in. But 
in family worship she could hear his 
voice by kneeling just before him, and 
the satisfaction which this union of soul 
brought to both of them was unspeaka- 
ble. The tears of holy gratitude would 
then dim her eye, and add new interest 
to all her features. 

He had considerately brought for her 
gratification whatever he thought would 


120 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

be most acceptable to her. Not one of 
his gifts, even the most costly, did she 
so much prize, however, as the New Tes- 
tament and Psalms printed specially for 
the aged, in type so large and fair, that, 
old as she was, it enabled her to dispense 
with spectacles in their perusal ; so light, 
too, in their thin, elastic covers, that her 
hand was never weary in holding them. 
Again and again would she press the 
open books to her bosom, and in strong, 
loud utterances, cry out, These, the^e 
are my treasures ; and when you have 
to go away I can keep them and read 
them still. These words of Jesus and 
these Psalms of David ! how marvelous- 
ly rich they are in their teachings, and 
their comforts, too. I can well under- 
stand his meaning where he says, ^ Thy 
words have I taken as a heritage for- 
ever, and they are the rejoicing of my 
heart.’ ” 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 121 


Nor were they limited altogether to 
these indoor enjoyments. Her eye was 
still bright, her step was firm, and her 
health was excellent, and on a fine ver- 
nal morning or evening she loved to go 
forth leaning on the arm of her son, or 
Reuben, as with stalwart vigor they still 
loved to feel the pressure of such a bur- 
den. How sweet the perfume of the 
early flowers, how bright the verdure 
which carpeted the earth, how gorgeous 
the bloom of fruit trees in their exuber- 
ant blossoms ! The garden, the lawn, the 
fields, covered over with flocks and herds, 
how did they all appeal to her heart, and 
they found there a ready response. She 
quoted no poetry, but she felt all and 
more than all that bards have sung, or 
the eloquent interpreters of nature have 
ever reached in their loftiest and most 
impassioned eulogies. Her own heaven- 
ly Father had made even His footstool 


122 THE emigrant’s mother. 

thus resplendent. What then must be 
His throne ! If such were the joys of 
her pilgrimage, what must be her home ! 

But other and sadder ministeries were 
also plied by the All-wise disposer to 
loosen the ties which hound her to the 
world. One after another, half that pre- 
cious family were called before her to 
that spirit world where our best friends 
our kindred dwell, where God our Sa- 
viour reigns.” First, two of the grand- 
children, the loveliest and dearest, as 
doting parents are ever wont to think 
when death sets his mark on them, were 
removed. But grandmother said, The 
great Proprietor came into His own en- 
closure and plucked for Himself — ah, 
why should he not? — the ripest sweet- 
est fruits.” With holy equanimity of 
soul she was enabled cheerfully to give 
them up to Him who had redeemed them. 

N 3xt came a sorer trial. The strong 


THE emigeant’s mothee. 123 


staff of her earthly support was also bro- 
ken. That son, that only son, for whom 
and with whom she had so long lived, in 
the fullness of his manly strength and 
ripened wisdom, on whom the eye and 
heart, not of the family alone, but of the 
church, where, as an office-bearer, he was 
honored ; of the community, where, as 
a good magistrate he so efficiently and 
widely promoted the public welflire, so 
confidingly vested, was now removed by 
death. It was no sudden fearful casu- 
alty smiting down their hope in a mo- 
ment unexpected, but fatal disease fixed 
its tenacious grasp on him, nor would re- 
lax its hold. He felt that he must die, 
and ordering wisely and well all his 
earthly interests, he committed himself 
and the weeping, loving group around 
him to the widow's God, the Father of 
the fatherless, and fell asleep in Jesus. 
The mother stood by, who had borne 


124 THE emigrant’s mother. 

him in her heart’s core from his birth, 
and for near fifty years, amid all changes 
had clung to him so fondly, and with 
such exulting gratitude and joy. But 
she utteis no complaint. Tears, not of 
bitterness, but of holy joy flowed freely, 
as looking up to Him whom she adored, 
she tremblingly cried, Father, not as I 
will, but as Thou wilt. Father, Thy will 
be done ! The cup which Thou givest 
me, shall I not drink it ?” He. the great 
Healer, Comforter and Guide, bound up 
her bleeding heart, whispered His words 
of gracious promise to her hiith, and led 
her unfalteringly towards her loved rest. 

No long interval elapsed ere that same 
group gathered around the dying bed of 
her daughter-in-law, following so soon the 
husband of her love, to the spirit world. 
Again did this doubly bereaved family 
look to her, whose counsels, and exam- 
ples^ and prayers they had always en- 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 125 


joyed, nor did they look in vain. She 
survived these great changes long enough 
to evince before them all, for their in- 
struction and their comfort, too, how per- 
fectly adapted is the religion of Christ 
for every exigency. Her heart was not 
congealed hy all its desolating experi- 
ences. Her eye was not deadened to 
the scenes and claims around her. True, 
the heart did yearn more fondly for the 
complement of its full joy in other and 
brighter scenes, and the eye instinctive- 
ly turned its gaze upward more fondly 
and frequently. Yet was she still the 
same loving, wise, and faithful friend to 
all these orphan children, which she had 
ever been, and nobly did their hearts re- 
ciprocate her love. 

Once more did Heuhen, now past his 
meridian, and full of pressing cares, find 
his way to greet her in what he feared 

might be her loneliness and desolation, 
11 * 


J.26 THE emigrant's mother. 

Just look once more upon the simple 
scene. It is a lovely morning of the 
earliest summer, and she has been for 
just a little while left sole mistress of 
the dwelling. The son who inherits the 
paternal mansion, and with it the blest 
privilege of caring for grandmother’s wel- 
fare, had not yet brought home his lovely 
bride, and depended on a house-keeper, 
herself the mother of a dear babe which 
she brought with her. To-day they had 
left, for an hour or two, that babe under 
the faithful care of grandmother, while 
other avocations called them from home. 
She drew the cradle near the door, where 
she was sitting, with her back to the 
street entrance. Reuben had reached 
the premises unperceived by het*. See- 
ing her well-known form, and her em- 
ployment in hushing the little one, he 
passed the gate, and stood upon the 
threshold, his traveling-bag in hand. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 127 

His shadow, in full and accurate outline 
with this accompaniment, fell on the floor 
before her, and scarcely looking up, in 
her loud peculiar voice she said, They 
are all from home, you can have no trade 
to-day,” supposing she was replying to 
a peddler soliciting the purchase of his 
trinkets. But still he stood there, as if 
immovably charmed and fastened to the 
spot, till again she repeated, in louder 
tones, her refusal of what she thought 
his importunate proffer. Still, as the 
shadow lingered, and she wondered that 
he did not leave, she rose and looked upon 
him, recognizing in full, the love that 
brought him to her side. 

This ludicrous scene, at his entrance, 
gave both of them a hearty laugh, and 
prepared them, as one extreme leads to 
another, for the tender and mournful re- 
view of sad scenes which both had passed 
through since they had last met. ^^You 


128 THE emigrant’s mother. 

seem quite lonesome here, mother,” said 
Reuben, in the loud tones requisite to 
make her hear. ^^Yes, yes,” she re- 
sponded, ^^they all think it very lone 
some, but I am used to it; to me it is 
not unwelcome. My thoughts, my heart 
are no longer so much tied to the world. 
More easy I now find it to commune with 
God my Saviour, and think of the many 
mansions in His Father’s house. He said 
He would go and prepare a place for His 
followers, and would come and receive 
them unto Himself, that where He is, 
they may he forever. I would not, in- 
deed, he impatient, for it is good to wait 
the Lord’s time, to do and suffer aU His 
holy will. But I am so glad that the 
time of my departure is near. 


“ ‘ 0 who would live alway away from his God— 
Away from yon heaven, that blissful aboda 
Where rivers of pleasure flow o’er the bright p lainly 
And the noontide of glory eternally reigns ; 


-3 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 129 


" ‘ Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, 

Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet ; 
While anthems of rapture unceasingly roll, 

And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soull’ ” 


The slow loud utterance, by her, of 
these stanzas, seemed greatly to affect 
the heart of Reuben. Tears unconscious- 
ly, hut plentifully were bedewing his 
cheeks, and her still quick and bright 
eyes detected them. Grasping his hand 
warmly, her inquiring look said, Why 
should such a prospect make one weep ?” 
Not unwillingly he told her that those 
words which she had just repeated awak- 
ened in his bosom the memory of their 
frequent utterance in the well known 
duet which his daughters played and 
sung together so often, and with such 
tender and hallowed joy, both to them- 
selves and others. But God had taken 
the ripest to Himself — and the now lonely 
survivor, so often choking with fond, sad 


130 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

recollections, when asked for this or other 
music she had been wont to give with 
such effect by the aid of the deceased, 
now answered with a sigh, The sweet 
harmony is gone ! and my lone notes are 
too mournful.” 

Oh tell me,” said Mother Jones with 
great earnestness, tell me all about 
your stricken lamb — her life, her death, 
her last utterances ere she winged her 
way to Jesus’ bosom.” So earnest and 
persistent was her importunity, enforced 
as it was by the argument that not often 
could she at all hear the voices of those 
around her, while his was quite audible ; 
and by the further assurance, that such 
rehearsals were now to her ear and heart 
more welcome than all others ; not sad, 
not gloomy,” said she, but rather in- 
spiring, full of heartfelt joy,” that refusal 
was impossible. Thus entreated, how 
could he deny any effort for her gratifi- 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 131 


cavivH ? Drawing his seat very near to 
her. he gave the following 

STORY OF EMILY. 

From earliest childhood, she had evinced 
unusual tenacity of purpose. Whatever 
she undertook, whether work or play, 
whether study or music, she gave her 
whole heart to it. Often so abstracted 
did she seem as to give no heed to passing 
occurrences. With this was combined 
what seemed stubbornness of temper. 
She had occasioned her parents and 
teachers more trouble, in this respect, 
than all their other children. Yet there 
was ever in her a nobleness, a conscien- 
tiousness, and an abhorrence of what- 
ever was mean , dissembling, or allied to 
tricky artifice. Her truthfulness was al- 
ways reliable, and to promises she had 
made, her fidelity was steadfast and un- 
impeachable. Without the versatility 


132 IHE emigrant's mother. 

which is often so charming, she had made 
uncommon progress in whatever she un- 
dertook. Her mastery of language, espe- 
cially, was very unusual for her years. 

Before she was fourteen her mind be- 
came deeply exercised on personal relig- 
ion. She was deeply and thoroughly 
convinced of her sinfulness in God’s 
sight; and in the depth of contrition 
she loathed and abhorred herself. The 
public appeal which just then fell on her 
ear from a youthful ambassador of Christ, 
to make one honest effort” to surrender 
her soul to Jesus, and trust Him entire- 
ly and forever, was blessed of the Holy 
Spirit. She yielded her young heart to 
the requirements of the gospel, and be- 
came a consistent disciple of the Saviour. 
It might be expected that religion, grafted 
on such a stock, would bear its noblest 
fruit. Lovely and blessed was the influ- 
ence which she ever afterwards exerted. 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 133 


In the school among her fellow pupils, in 
the female prayer meeting, where those 
mature in age and piety marveled at the 
petitions they heard from her childlike 
lips, in the church of God and her Bible 
class, where her example and profiting 
were so noticeable, she evinced the power 
of that matchless grace of the Saviour 
which had made her its trophy. Ere 
long it pleased her heavenly Father to 
try her faith. She was laid on a sick 
bed, and for many days her life was 
nearly despaired of. How serene and 
unclouded, how firm and unshrinking was 
then he"" trust in the divine promises. 
Her hjavenly serenity said loudly to aU 
beholders, Though He slay me, yet will 
I trust in Him.” This scene of sutfering 
occurred in the house of her maternal 
grandfather, where she was born ; and 
very powerful and salutary seemed its in- 
fluence on the rugged but noble nature of 


134 THE emigrant’s mother. 

that doting, kind-hearted old m^n. It 
pleased God, however, after the light had 
been flickering in the socket for several 
anxious days, to recover her to comfort- 
able, but not robust health. In this state 
she visited among early friends, at a dis- 
tance from her home, and here too her 
influence was blessed. 

Thus was she, for nearly four years, a 
growing, happy Christian. The light and 
joy of the home circle which she graced 
with heavenly sweetness, she was scarcely 
less beloved and honored wherever her 
unobtrusive pathway led her. Personal 
charms, all too winning, were developing 
themselves in her, combined with the 
nobler graces of heavenly origin. Once 
and again had her hand been sought, by 
those to whom she could not be entirely 
indifferent. But in full harmony with 
parental counsels, she said, ^^It is too 
early too decide in questions so momen 


THE EMIGKANT’s MOTHER. 13o 


tous.” A third appeal, having the advan- 
tage of almost daily intercourse, and en- 
forced by the most solemn and earnest 
assurances that only by her influence the 
loving one might he led to the Saviour, 
she at length yielded to, and before com- 
pleting her eighteenth year, in mid-winter 
of 1844, was married. How well she 
filled the important post of mistress of a 
family — how far she exceeded the fond- 
est expectations of her friends in all the 
capability there evinced, need not he here 
described. Effectually and promptly had 
she won the hearts of her husband’s kin- 
dred, in their commanding and dignified 
positions. Most of all was her unobtru- 
sive piety still noticeable. Each morning 
in their dwelling, the Word of God was 
devoutly read together by the entire 
household ; and at evening she and her 
husband bowed in prayer together in her 
chamber, making the apartment the hah 


136 THE emigrant’s mother. 

lowed threshold of heaven. How lare 
the combination of meekness and dignity 
which shone forth in all her deportment. 
The books she read, the letters and jour- 
nal she wrote, the visits she received or 
returned, as well as all her daily inter- 
course with either friends or strangers, 
savored of her communion with the skies. 

Near mid-autumn, her father was re- 
quired to set forth on a long and per- 
ilous journey through the entire western 
States, to occupy five months. The Sab- 
bath evening before his departure, Emily 
spent with him in his own family circle. 
As usual they read, and sang, and prayed, 
her voice, a beautiful soprano, giving its 
richness to the favorite sacred airs in 
which they united. The beautiful ser- 
mon of Robert Hall, from the appropri- 
ate promise by the prophet Moses, Heut. 
xxxiii. 25, Thy shoes shall he iron and 
brass; and as thy daySy so shall thy 


THE emigrant’}^ MOTHER. 13‘ 


strength he^ was read and remarked on, 
more perhaps with reference to his antici- 
pated perils in this journey, than to that of 
those he left behind him. She evinced 
the utmost cheerfulness ; spoke freely 
and lovingly to that fond father of her 
great enjoyments in her new home, and 
poured into his willing ear the thrilling 
joys she still anticipated. There was 
just enough of pensive sadness, by the 
expected separation for so many weeks, 
to give keener and more chastened en- 
joyment to the hour, and he had never, 
perhaps, looked on that circle with a ten- 
derer and more joyous heart. 

Before the next sunrise, he was on his 
way. One or two letters from home had 
met him on his wandering course, and 
little more than three weeks had elapsed 
after his departure, before one from his 
son-in-law, reaching him in middle Ten- 
nessee, told him of the premature ac- 
12 * 


138 THE emigrant’s mother. 

coucliment of his daughter, and that 
mother and hahe were then doing well. 
He responded at once, with fear and 
trembling, lest the daughter, and now a 
mother, should prove too frail for such 
an exigency. More than a week elapsed 
before he reached St. Louis, where his 
next letters were to reach him. With 
intensest impatience he broke the seal, to 
learn from the attending physician, that 
puerperal fever had supervened ; in the 
not unusual delirium which ensued, most 
anxiously and repeatedly had the poor 
sufferer cried out for her father — her 
father. Why do you not send for him, 
for certainly he would come to his dying 
Emily r 

This, too, was accompanied by an in- 
timation from the kind physician that 
nothing would so likely avail for her re- 
covery as the soothing influence of that 
father s presence and prayers. This had 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 139 


been written some ten days already, and 
he was more than one thousand miles 
from her. Ho’v^ torturing the suspense ! 
But the next day brought the dreaded 
tidings. The struggle was over, and the 
poor sufferer had departed. But her 
reason had been fully restored before the 
closing scene. When told that she was 
thought to be dying, after affectionate 
and pious counsels and adieus to those 
present, she left for the absent one this 
message, When dear father comes, tell 
him not to grieve for his Emily. I shall 
soon meet him ; perhaps I shall see him 
first.” Then closing her eyes she whis- 
pered audibly and calmly, I shall soon 
rest in the Saviour’s bosom, and with the 
holy angels.” A beloved Christian brother 
knelt by her dying bed, and breathed a 
fervent prayer. When in the conclusion 
he entreated the Father of mercies to 
sustain and comfort that stricken absent 


140 THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 

father, whom the young sufferer had so 
tenderly loved, she clasped her hands 
and uttered a fervent ^^Amen!” ThLs 
was her last word. 

When Reuben had completed the 
narrative, widow Jones exclaimed, And 
I too can join in that amen ! May my 
own departure, which now must he very 
near, be like that of this holy child of 
yours. What has the world to offer, 
comparable with such an exit, in pros- 
pect of the home, the bliss, the Saviour’s 
embrace, which she realized ?” 

By a natural transition this led her to 
recapitulate many of the interesting inci- 
dents connected with the sickness and 
death of her own children, and children’s 
children. These were widely varied, in- 
deed, as must be expected ; but all were 
strikingly evincive of the faithfulness of 
the Good Shepherd, who verifies to such 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 141 


His own precious promise, will never 
leave thee, nor forsake thee.” 

Oh how sinful and ungrateful would 
it he for me,” she exclaimed, with ear- 
nestness, ^^to doubt His loving-kindness 
to me, after all which He has thus per- 
mitted me to witness and experience !” 
And then in the strong voice to which 
all had been accustomed to hear her in 
these latter years of imperfect hearing, 
she broke forth in singing the familiar 
stanza, 

“ His love in times past forbids me to think 
He will leave me at last in trouble to sink ; , 

Each sweet Ebenezer I have in review, 

Confirms Ilis good pleasure to help me quite through.” 


Toward evening they walked forth a 
little distance from the dwelling, enjoy- 
ing to the full the beauty of the vernal 
year. The clustering fruit trees were 
just scattering their fragrant and variously 
tinted blossoms, like snow flakes covering 


142 THE emigrant’s mother. 

the ground at their feet ; and the sweet 
notes of the wild birds filled the air with 
their melody, while the honey bees has- 
tening with their nectar sweets to their 
hives, sent forth a subdued hum not un- 
grateful to the ear. Leaning on Leu- 
ben’s arm, she slowly led the way toward 
the resting place of the dead, hut said 
with a cheerful smile, I do not as was 
said of Mary, ^ Go unto the grave to 
weep there.’ No, thank God, I can re- 
joice rather. For the unslumhering eye 
of Him who watches over the dust of 
those who sleep in Jesus, will well per- 
form its office till the archangel’s voice 
shall call them from their sleep. Here 
beside my kindred would I too find a 
resting place for this poor old worn out 
frame. But my soul will fly away and 
join the redeemed in their white robes, 
and help them sing their new song of 
praise to our glorious Saviour.” 


THE emigrant’s MOTHER. 143 


And so, ere many months elapsed, she 
did. Her final illness was neither long 
nor painful. She welcomed, with thank- 
fulness, the kindly ministries of her phv 
sician, and nurse, and grandchildren ; she 
was remarkably quiet, evinced no impa- 
tience, and seemed to lie passive in the 
Lord’s hands to he disposed of as He 
saw fit. But the eye, the heart were 
evidently above, and He whom she had 
waited for, came and received her into 
His own presence, to go no more out for- 
ever. There, in that humble cemetery, 
rest her remains with those of her son 
and other kindred ; and those among sur- 
vivors who knew her best, will most 
honor and revere her memory. 

The condensed facts of our little his 
tory are completed, and they scarce 
need the formal pointing of their im- 
portant lesson. Fully do they confirm 


144 THE emigrant’s mother. 

and illustrate the position, that not high 
rank or favored external circumstances 
are essential to true worth, or even to 
extensive usefulness. When many of 
the titled dignitaries of earth shall have 
passed to the oblivion they have mer- 
ited, and others who have won brief 
plaudits by unworthy means, and have, 
as rapidly as they rose, sunk away to de- 
served forgetfulness, some, like this pious 
Emigrant’s Mother, by well filling their 
humble stations, and honoring the Lord 
in all their ways, shall live in the hal- 
lowed memory of future generations, ful- 
filling thus the divine promise, 

Surely the righteous shall he in ever* 
lasting remembrancer 


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